


(slow, he likes to) get blown

by lipgallagher



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, Road Trips, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-07-13 01:39:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16007615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lipgallagher/pseuds/lipgallagher
Summary: Steve points out, "I'm theonlything keeping you from falling and dying outside a Wendy's, in, like, themiddle of nowhere."It takes him a minute, but Billy fights through his drug-induced haze long enough to process that, and then he just keepssmilingat Steve, like, "Yeah, but Itrustyou, baby."Just for that, Steve's pretty sure he's going tohaveto drop Billy a few times on the way back to the car.ALTERNATIVELY: billy and steve go to a wedding.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1a this fic is Done, but im posting it in about a million Miniature chapters. idk. im trying it out.  
>   
> 1b the darkest part of this entire fic is at the very beginning of the very first chapter (triggers include coercion and dubiously consensual sexual favours) and its referenced throughout the rest of the chapter, once more in the second chapter, and then never again, so youre more than welcome to skip past it! **once again, please note:** potentially triggering content starts at the beginning of the first chapter. if you plan to skip it, a good starting point is: _Just because of, like, whatever, common courtesy, or something..._  
>   
>  2a i Know this seems like a lie, but this is essentially a romcom. its 90% fluff. i promise. have a little faith in me, just this once.  
>   
> 2b that said, as always, apologies in advance.

**-81**

"It's okay."

It's _not_ okay. 

Steve has never been _so_ far away from okay. 

He's never been _this_ fucked up, so he _needs_ to get high, but he's all out of cash, he can't _believe_ he's out of cash, because _that's_ never really happened to him, either, but he's broke as hell, and here's his dealer, lifting one of Steve's hands, holding it down over his own dick, repeating, "It's _okay_ , baby. Come on. Come here."

This is sorta Steve's fault, because he _literally_  just said that he would do _anything_ , but he _only_ said that because he thought Billy was going to be weird, like always, and was going to ask for something that was ultimately harmless, like the one time he said he wanted to kiss Steve's neck, like the one time he just wanted Steve to sit on his lap for a few minutes, like the one time he said he would give Steve enough pills for the week, _totally_   _free_ , if he just shot up in front of him first, and Steve had done smack before, _anyway_ , so he figured, like, _whatever_ , it was going to be _fine_ , and, honestly? 

It _was_ fine, like, _yeah_ , it was _weird_ , and the comedown sucked, but it was _fine_. 

Tonight, Billy wants a blowjob, and Steve's done _that_ before, too, but not with _Billy_ , and it feels like crossing a line, because, like.

He's tired, he's shaking, he's in  _pain_. 

This isn't _like_ last time, _or_ the time before that, _or_ the first time, because Steve was a little desperate, those times, but he wasn't _this_ fucking desperate, and Billy _knew_ it.

Steve could have said no the other times, but he _can't_ , this time, and Billy fucking _knows_ that, so.

This time, Billy's taking advantage of him, _right_?

 

 

 

 

Just like the last few times they did anything like this, Billy reeks like patchouli, like cigarette smoke, like day-old sweat. 

Steve figured Billy would be a talker, he figured Billy would get really fucking _filthy_ about it, but maybe that wasn't very fair? 

_Yeah_ , Billy always gives off this super sleazy vibe, but.

Most of the time, he's not so bad.

Right _now_ , he's not so bad.

This isn't happening the way Steve thought it would, because Billy started out carding his fingers through Steve's hair, groaning, " _Good_ , yeah, that's good, _fuck_ ," and that was more or less what Steve thought was going to happen at first, but he's been pretty quiet, since then.

Actually, he's not _just_ being quiet about all of this?

He's being fucking  _nice_ about it.

Steve glances up, watches Billy biting his lip and knocking his head back against the wall, tries to figure out if Billy's _always_ been a nice guy, or.

Or if maybe Billy's just been fucking with him, and he's about to make it _hurt_.

And Steve's not sure which one is the right word, but he's suddenly thinking  _irony_ and _karma_ and _jinx_ , because Billy's fingers are spreading out over Steve's face, guiding him up and back and off of Billy's dick, slow enough for Steve to feel every fucking _inch_ slipping out of his mouth, slow enough for him to feel like a part of him is fucking _missing_ , even though.

Yeah, _no_.

Nothing's missing.

Steve _gets_ that, but he still feels like he's just been fucking _robbed_.

He feels like he needs Billy to fill him back up.

Billy's cock smacks against Steve's cheek, once, twice, steady and heavy and _fucking_ humiliating.

And, _okay_ , people don't actually  _do_ that, _right_? 

That's, like, _just_ a porn thing, it _must_ be, because it's _so gross_ , what the _fuck_ , but Steve can't even really glare up at Billy, because his eyes are watering, and his mouth is dripping  _so much spit_ that it feels _embarrassing_.

This _entire thing_  is embarrassing, but it gets _worse_  when Billy cups Steve's chin, uses his hand to shake Steve's head around, tells him, like he's a dumb useless _virgin_ , "Watch your fucking  _teeth._ "

Steve tries choking out, " _Okay_ , fuck, whatever. _Sorry_ ," but he hasn't even finished speaking when Billy starts feeding his cock back into Steve's mouth.

It _shouldn't_ be, but the worst part is that it's _almost_ sexy.

Like, if Billy was his _boyfriend_ , or something, Steve would probably fucking _love_ this.

He didn't gag the first time, so it's _weird_ that he does now, but he _does_ , it _hurts_ , Steve feels like he's going to fucking _die_  until Billy pulls him back by his hair, lets him breathe for a few seconds, then pushes him right back down, like, "God gave you that fucking mouth for a  _reason_ , baby. It's okay. You're  _okay_. You can take it."

 

 

 

 

Just because of, like, whatever, _common courtesy_ , or something, Steve was going to swallow, he _was_ , but Billy pulls on Steve's hair with one hand, pushes him off his dick with his other hand, comes all over Steve's favorite Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles T-shirt.

And, again, it sounds like he's _only_ saying it because he thinks Steve's an inexperienced idiot, when Billy's like, "Don't fucking _swallow_ for guys you, like, _don't even know_."

" _Yeah_ , I, like. I _know_ that, but. I know _you_ , so..."

"You really fucking _don't_ know me, pretty boy."

Whatever. 

_Fine_. 

"Can I just. Can I have—"

"Jesus, _relax_ ," and Billy's reaching out to pull Steve's shirt over his head, he's standing up, he's heading over to the sink. "Jacket pocket. And, hey, I _know_ how much I fucking have, alright? _Don't_ think I won't beat your ass."

Steve rolls his eyes, reaches over to the other side of the couch, pats down all of the _million_ pockets on Billy's dumb as hell denim jacket until he finds the one that's full of his pills.

They didn't talk about how much Steve was allowed to have before they got started, though, so he's not sure if he can just count out his usual, because he usually fucking _pays_ for it, like, with _actual money_ , and  _blowjobs_ aren't _money_ , and even if they _were_ , that was probably the _worst one_ Steve's _ever_ given, so. 

He waits for Billy to leave the shirt to dry over the edge of the sink, to come back to sit down next to Steve, to say, "Go ahead, baby." 

"I. How _much_?"

"Uh, whatever?" Billy shrugs. "Call it one and a half." 

One and a half.

Okay.

_Well_.

Steve usually buys for the whole week. 

He needs sixty milligrams on a good day, eighty on a bad day, but, lately, _most_ of Steve's days are bad days, so.

He usually picks up twenty-eight pills.

Half of twenty-eight is.

That's.

It's. 

_Fuck_.

Steve's _never_ been great with numbers, but he's actually gotten a _lot_  better at math since he started using.

Right now, though?

He can't see very well, and he apparently can't divide twenty-eight in half, and his hands are shaking, but that's not new.

They've been shaking this entire fucking time.

Billy eases the bottle away from him, and Steve whimpers before he can stop himself, and he knows exactly  _why_ , too, because he feels  _sick_ , not just painfully sober anymore, but _really fucking sick_ , and he can't  _believe_ he just did that for  _no reason_ , if Billy's _not_ going to hook him up.

Fuck.

This was so _stupid_.

Steve didn't think this through.

It's not like he can _do_ anything about it if Billy doesn't want to give him the drugs like he said he would, right?

But.

Billy counts out forty-three, zips most of them into a bag, reaches out to slip it deep into the front left pocket of Steve's jeans.

The last pill is still in Billy's hand until it _isn't_ , until it pushes against Steve's lips, until he opens his mouth, lets Billy press two of his fingers far enough inside to drop the pill  _right_ at the end of his tongue.

Dry-swallowing always makes him feel like he's about to fucking _die_ for the next ten minutes of his life, but.

_Jesus_.

It's _ten minutes_.

After what he just took, Steve can _take_ another ten minutes.

Billy dries his hand on his jeans as he tells Steve, all soft and serious and intense, " _Don't_ do this again. _Call_ me, when you need it, okay? That's _why_ you have my number."

Maybe that shouldn't make him feel worse, but it fucking _does_.

Billy thinks that this is going to happen to Steve again, because it _is_ going to happen to Steve again, because this is who Steve fucking _is_ , now. 

This is what Steve's _world_ looks like, now.

This is the world where Dad took Steve's name off all of his credit card authorizations, the world where Mom pays Steve's rent every month but  _only_ because she's the one who decided to pick out a place for him to live that was a whole fucking _state_ away from home, the world where Steve spent the past three months hooking up with this older guy, Ben, because he gave Steve a fucking _allowance_ that meant he had money to pay for his phone, to buy food, sometimes, but.

Mostly, it meant that he had the money to call Billy, once a week.

But Ben's wife just found out about Steve, so Steve's _fucked_. 

He doesn't think he can find someone to replace Ben, because he doesn't even remember how he fucking  _met_ Ben, because he was high as  _shit_ ,that night _._

Steve's eyes aren't just welling up anymore.

There are actual fucking _tears_ running down his face, but that's _dumb_ , because this isn't even _it_. 

This isn't _rock bottom_ , like everyone talked about the last time Dad sent him to rot in rehab, like. 

This _isn't_ the worst it's ever going to get.

Steve still has a place to live, he still has a phone, he still has _Billy_ , not that _that_ means anything, really, because Billy's a _drug dealer_ , which means he's _basically_  not even a real person.

But the pill he just gave Steve was twenty milligrams, and it's been almost four days since Steve finished out his stash.

Normally, twenty would be nothing, but, tonight, twenty is going to hit him like the fucking Titanic.

Soon, Steve is going to be able to get up, he'll feel like he's fucking _alive_  again, he'll stop fucking _crying_ , probably, _hopefully_.

_Now_ , though, he's just lost and panicked and dead, and Billy's tucking Steve's face into the dip of his neck, rubbing a hand over Steve's back, murmuring, "Don't get me _wrong_ , here, pretty boy, I just, uh. I mean. I didn't think you were actually gonna fucking _do_  that shit."

He didn't think Steve would _do_ it? 

So, like, _what_? 

Maybe Steve didn't _have_ to do it?

Because, like.

Like, _yeah_ , Billy's fucking _creepy_ sometimes, but he's not _that_ much of a creep? 

"I mean, _shit_. I was just _messing_ with you. I would've let you pay me next week."

Steve is always hungry as hell when he's sober, once he pushes past the first day or so of withdrawal.

But he's never been out of drugs  _and_ money at the _same fucking time_ , not until _this_ time, so he hasn't been able to eat much for the past few days, and that means it's easy to see the pill that's caught in a thin coat of yellow-pink slime, when he's across the room, puking over Billy's sink.

It's only _slightly_ dissolved, and.

Okay, the sink is  _empty_ , and it looks pretty clean?

Like, Steve's shirt is on the _other_ side of it.

Steve _knows_ what he's about to do, and he knows that it's _still_ going to seem gross, and that wouldn't matter if he was alone, but he can fucking _feel_ Billy's eyes on him, so.

Maybe he should feel embarrassed, or.

No.

_No_ , he fucking _knows_  that he should feel embarrassed, but. 

He pops the pill back into his mouth, fills his palms with water from the tap to help him swallow it back down, walks right out of Billy's apartment.

 

 

 

 

**-69**

"Nice place."

It's _such_ a bad place. 

Billy's never been here, because, normally, Steve meets him somewhere for a drink, or they walk and talk while Billy's delivering to somebody else, or.

_Or_ , Steve's in a hotel room, because Ben paid for it through the night, but he left at, like, _seven_ , so Steve called Billy.

Billy always used to give Steve a _killer_ discount on nights like that, because the guy fucking _loves_ hotels, like.

Like, he just  _really_ loves hotels.

His eyes light up, and everything.

The first time Steve noticed it, it was because Billy found out there was a swimming pool, and Steve was _real_ fucking high, so he didn't think about it too much before he called down to the front desk to ask if somebody could send up some swim trunks, and.

_Yeah_. 

Billy's whole face just _totally_ lit up. 

It was cute.

Honestly, when he's not busy being gross as hell, Billy's _usually_ pretty cute.

But Steve isn't going to be able to pull off the hotel vibe again, so, today, like it's _normal_ , or something, Billy decided to swing by Steve's apartment.

He hands over Steve's TMNT shirt as he walks in, and it smells like Tide, and _that's_ a little crazy, because, like.

Steve can't believe Billy even knows _how_ to do laundry?

_Steve_ barely knows how to do laundry.

Billy starts unzipping his hoodie as he heads for the kitchen, and his hair is usually down past his shoulders, because of how he thinks he's  _actually_ Jesus Christ, or whatever, but today, it looks like maybe Billy  _braided_ it, or something, before he put it up in some kind of bun, and it looks  _dumb_ , and.

And, when Billy sets his hoodie down on the kitchen counter, Steve realizes that he’s wearing one of those black and red DARE shirts.

Like, _seriously_ , it's one of those old  _stay in school and don't do drugs_  T-shirts. 

"So, like." Steve tosses his own shirt back and forth between his hands when he asks, "You think you're, like, _super_ funny, I guess, right?"

Billy doesn't ask Steve to explain what he means, just shrugs, grins, licks his lips.

"What, _you_ don't think I'm funny?"

" _I_ think you're a dickhead."

Billy's grin takes over even _more_ of his face, then, and the sunlight coming in from the window hits him _just_ right, makes him look like a fucking _angel_ , like he's _not_ the worst person alive, when he's like, "I _don't_  see how that's relevant."

 

 

 

 

**-36**

_ur cutting it close_

Steve scowls. 

It's fucking _weird_ that Billy does that, that he always remembers the last time he saw Steve, down to the exact fucking  _day_.

Like, whatever,  _maybe_ he does that for everybody, but probably _not_ , right?

Even before the blowjob from hell, Billy was _real_ intense about Steve.

He's been like that since _the first day they met._

Steve leans heavily over his shopping cart, lifts his phone to his ear, waits to hear Billy pick up, like, "Uh, _morning_?"

"Hi, Billy."

"Well,  _hi_ , baby. What're you wearing?"

"Okay, don't _flirt_ with me, man; I'm at _Walmart_."

" _Gross_." Billy whines, "I fucking  _hate_  that place." 

Steve rolls his eyes. "Yeah, right, _listen_ , uh. Where are you? Could I, like. Come see you?"

"I'm still in bed." Steve hasn't been back to Billy's place, since. Since that one time. And, okay, _whatever_ , Steve _gets_ that it's crazy to turn down sex, he _does_ , but that doesn't mean it's not fucked up to be like, _oh, I just didn't think you would do it_ , right after, so. He waits for a minute, then one more, until Billy finally offers, "I have, like. Two drop-offs, later. I can come over, like. _Fuck_ , I don't know. Nine, nine-thirty?"

But that's sorta the same exact problem, because, like. 

Steve doesn't really _want_ Billy coming over, at all, but _especially_ not that late at night?

"I can't do tonight. My, uh. I got my kid brother visiting me, tonight, so."

It's not even that much of a lie, because Dustin's sleeping over for the next few days, since there's apparently some weird sci-fi thing happening in the city, this week.

If Mrs Henderson knew what a mess Steve is, these days, she probably wouldn't have let Dustin take a Greyhound out here, but she _did_ , so.

Steve has to go down to the bus station to get Dustin in a couple of hours, which means he has to score _now_ , or he's going to go through withdrawal in front of Dustin and scar the kid for _life_.

So, he's _fucked_ , because _maybe_ Billy is a nice guy, but he's not _that_ nice, and.

And Billy yawns, " _Ugh_ , fuck, _fine_. Buy me some Airheads, and I'll come take care of you, in, like. _Whatever_. Twenty minutes." 

Dealers _always_ run late, though.

Twenty minutes for Billy is going to be at _least_ an hour for Steve, and that should be enough time for him to finish up at the store and get his ass back home, so. 

"What flavor?"

"Cherry. _No_ , wait, _apple_. Nah, _no_ , I want cherry."

" _Okay_." Steve rolls his eyes, again. "What if they don't _got_ any Airheads?"

There's a long pause on Billy's end of the line, like he's trying to decide how to tell Steve that Walmart is _never_ going to  _not_ have Airheads.

He might be in for a rough surprise.

Steve doesn't think he's seen an Airhead in, like, a _decade_.

It's a _long_ fucking pause, but, in the end, Billy's just like, "Milky Way, por favor."

 

 

 

 

**-10**

"Oh, uh. _Hey_ , listen. Could I get a little more than that, today?"

"I don't _know_." Billy raises his eyebrows. "Can you _pay_ for a little more?"

" _Yes_ , motherfucker."

"Okay. Well, while I  _love_ your dedication to supporting local businesses, I mean. Yeah, I _shouldn't_ tell you this, but your shit's not _illegal_ , you know? You just have to go see a doctor." 

"What the _fuck_ about me makes you think I got _health insurance_?"

" _Everybody_ has health insurance. That's, like. A _thing_. Affordable Care, or whatever."

"Everybody's _supposed_ to have insurance, but, like. _Man_ , I just do _not_ have health insurance." 

Out of nowhere, there's a hand on his shoulder, and it feels _really_ fucking heavy?

Like, Billy's _hand_ feels heavy, but so does the moment, in general, when Billy goes, "I get _worried_ about you, like. For _real_."

Billy doesn't need to worry about Steve, because they're not _friends_ , or anything.

_Steve_  is starting to feel pretty worried, though.

Maybe he needs to put some more space between him and Billy.

Not just physical space, but, like.

_Personal_ space?

He doesn't really _want_ to, because it's always a hassle, but.

Maybe he needs to start looking for a new dealer.

 

 

 

 

**95**

He hasn't _actually_ had to do it yet, but Steve knows that if he ever needs to tell anyone about what happened, he's going to _have_ to change things up.

Like, he's going to have to say that he was drunk off his ass, and Billy was just  _there_ , trying to be a Good Samaritan, or something.

That's sorta believable, like.

_Maybe_ , right?

But, yeah, _no_.

He  _wasn't_  drunk.

He wasn't even high.

And Billy Hargrove's _not_ a Good Samaritan.

But, if Steve says he was sober, no one is _ever_ going to believe it, because the whole thing was just _that_ fucking wild.


	2. Chapter 2

**-7**  

When they're  _finally_  finishing up on Skype, Dustin yawns, "So, I'll see you next week, right?"

Steve has _no_ _idea_ what's going on? 

He's sorta spent the past three hours wishing this conversation was already over so he could go get high.

"What the fuck are you  _talking_  about?"

"Okay, God,  _relax_. I mean, it's  _shitty_  of you, but, like, I don't think it's gonna  _surprise_  anybody—"

" _Hey_." Steve spits, "Fuck  _you_ , Henderson; I'm a  _delight_ , okay?! Me being a dick is  _always_  a surprise; nobody's ever  _expecting_ —"

"Oh,  _Steve_ ," Dustin's like, reaching out like he's about to end the call. "My sweet summer child."

 

 

 

 

One time, when he was in rehab, some girl told Steve that her therapist told her that if she  _had_  to get high, she  _shouldn't_  do it in bed, because that would just make her want to get high  _every_  time she was in bed, after that?

Steve's not totally sure if that makes sense, but he already spends a  _lot_  of his time in his bed, just like he already spends a  _lot_  of his time wanting to get high, so.

Normally, he tries to  _only_  get high in the bathroom.

It's funny, though, because he's never really _thought_ about it like this before, but when he gets back into bed, Steve suddenly wonders if he's been doing it  _wrong_ , like. 

Maybe getting right back into bed just defeats the purpose? 

He's about to try Googling it, but there's a new text on his phone, from Nancy, that reads,  _hey ASSHOLE!!! STOP IGNORING ME!!!!!!_

Steve can't fucking  _believe_  how annoying she is.

Like, he's not sure how it's  _possible_ , because she did  _not_  seem this annoying when she was his girlfriend, but. 

These days, Nancy is  _incredibly_  fucking annoying.

As he hits Delete, Steve sneers to himself, " _Stop ignoring me_."

 

 

 

 

**-4**

Steve is broke again, but it's okay.

The woman who runs the laundromat two blocks away is a little bit in love with him, and she always lets him borrow her phone, so.

He went down there to call Mom first thing in the morning, got her to agree to pay his AT&T bill, let her talk to him about boring shit for a few minutes, like,  _have you been feeling better? You sound better_ ,and also,  _you're not going to believe this, but your cousin Angie? You remember Angie? She pulled your hair, so you shoved her into the pool, and. Right, she didn't know how to swim, and your aunt Rita lost her fucking mind? Yeah, that's her, anyway, she's pregnant, and she has no idea who the father is_ , and also,  _can you water the plants when you get home?_

It seems like Mom's going crazy, but whatever. 

That's _her_ problem.

Well, it might be  _Dad's_  problem, but, the point is, it's not  _Steve's_  problem.

AT&T reactivates his phone, and.

And the  _first_  text to come through is from Billy, three minutes later, like,  _need anything??_

Steve wastes a few minutes by staring at the screen in shock, before he starts glancing suspiciously around his apartment, like maybe Billy's  _watching_  him, or something, and _maybe_ that's a little crazy, but.

Maybe  _not_ , too, because, like. 

What the  _fuck_?

His phone  _just_  started working. 

But Billy's only been here _once_ , and Steve would've _noticed_ him hiding a camera here, or something, but Billy's not _that_ fucking creepy, _anyway_ , because _nobody's_ that fucking creepy.

Steve's just being paranoid. 

He gets out of bed, does a quick inventory check, opens up his wallet.  

It's not  _completely_ empty.

Steve has three dollars in change, and a crumpled-up five dollar bill, and an old debit card that hasn't had any money on it for months.

He's too fucking  _broke_  to see Billy, but he has enough pills to make it through the day, and  _maybe_  even tomorrow, if he's responsible about it.

So, he has, _what_?

A day?

He can  _totally_  find some cash if he has a whole  _day_. 

Or, like.

Maybe Steve can talk himself into giving Billy another blowjob, if he has a whole day?

He kinda doubts it, but.

_Maybe_.

 

 

 

 

**-2**

Steve needs to find a new dealer.

He  _knows_  that, but Billy's a nice guy who likes Steve, who _never_ overcharges him, and he's usually semi-reliable, too, but he's not looking so reliable tonight.

_Tonight_ , Steve's been pacing around the hallway outside of his apartment for _hours_ , and he's not hurting  _too_  bad, but he  _will_  be, he fucking  _knows_  it, so when his phone rings, Steve answers without even checking to see who's calling, like, " _Hey_ , are you. Hi?"

" _Hi_ , Steve," Nancy sighs. "Look, for the  _tenth time_ , it's  _okay_  if you don't have—"

" _Nancy_ —"

"I just need to  _know_ , 'cause the seating charts are—"

"No, no, I. I  _just_. I. _Listen_ , can I call you back later? I'm waiting on—"

" _I_  have been waiting on  _you_  to call  _me_  back for, like, a fucking  _month_ , Steve!  _God_ , are you  _kidding_ me?!"

"I'm  _sorry_ , I didn't  _mean_. I. It's all real  _complicated_ , Nancy—"

And Billy _still_ thinks he's Jesus Christ, so his sandals are padding down the hall, he's wearing this oversized fringed sweater, about _half_ of the longer curls of his hair have escaped the bun on top of his head when he stops in front of Steve, raises his eyebrows, mouths, _who's that?_

Steve mouths, _nobody_. 

"If this is a bad time, I can always—"

" _No_!" Steve's like, _embarrassingly_ loud, embarrassingly fast, embarrassingly fucking  _desperate_. "Just my. My _ex_ , seriously, like, _nobody_ , uh.  _Hi_ , come in,  _hi_ ," and Steve's yanking open the screen door, pushing Billy into the apartment, snapping, "Listen, I'll get  _back_  to you about this, okay?" And he's pretty sure she didn't actually _say_ it, but suddenly, like he wasn't feeling fucked up enough  _already_ , Steve is eighteen again, hearing Nancy tell him that he's  _bullshit, bullshit, bullshit_. "I'm with my, uh. I got a  _guy_ , here, um. I'll call back, I  _swear_."

_That_ was bullshit, though.

He's never calling Nancy back.

When Steve makes his way inside, Billy's in the kitchen, again, lighting a cigarette over the stove, wondering, "So,  _what_ , I'm a  _guy_ , now?"

" _What_? I don't. Are you  _not_  one? I. I don't get it. Are we gonna have the, like. _Pronouns_ talk? That's _cool_ , if we are, I just didn't _know_ —"

"We are not having _the pronouns talk_." Billy rolls his eyes. " _Jesus_ , our pronouns are fucking _fine_. You just kind of implied we were about to get it on, like:  _I got a guy, over here_."

"Oh."

"... _are_  we getting it on?"

" _No_."

"You _sure_ , though?" Billy winks, licks his lips, presses, "I don't know about  _you_ , but  _I_  had fun—"

" _Yeah_ , man, I  _know_ you did," Steve's like, irritably. "I got _money_ , this time."

He  _does_.

He doesn't feel great about what he had to do to  _get_  it, but. 

He  _has_  money. 

"That's a shame." Like it's their first time all over again, like he doesn't  _know_  Steve by now, like he can't even  _pretend_  to trust him, Billy counts out the cash, nice and slow, before he hands over Steve's pills and announces, "Okay. We're good."

"Cool." 

" _Cool_ , so. What's up, pretty boy? You getting high, or  _what_?" 

"Um. _Yeah_?"

"Okay." And Billy walks out of the kitchen, sits down on Steve's bed, makes himself comfortable, like, "I'm  _waiting_."

 

 

 

 

Billy's too close to Steve, and he keeps accidentally-on-purpose pushing their thighs together, and he's reading out personality quiz questions from an issue of  _Seventeen_ that  _must_  be stolen, because the name on the subscription label looks like it starts with the letter  _M_.

With anyone else, this would probably be a little weird.

With anyone else who's had their  _dick_  in his mouth, this would be  _extremely fucking weird_ , but Steve and Billy have done this before.

One night, when Steve was staying at the Westin downtown, Billy came over, dropped off Steve's pills, left to go for a swim in the indoor pool. 

He came back soaking wet, smelling like chlorine, beaming like he was having the  _best_   _night_ of his  _entire_   _life_.

Billy called Steve  _pretty boy_ , then  _baby_ , then  _Steve_ , like he thought he had to remind Steve what his own fucking  _name_  was, and  _that_  would have been annoying if Steve was sober, but he _wasn't_ , so it was okay, and it was  _still_  okay when Billy sat down next to him, dripped his wet hair all over the bed, started changing channels on the TV, like,  _this sugar baby thing you're doing is gross, you know, but, like. It is a hell of a vibe? You should come swim with me, next time._

So, it was okay, and,  _anyway_ , Billy was only there for about ten minutes before Steve fell asleep.  

This time, Steve's not passing out, though.

Like, it's been almost an  _hour_ , and Steve is  _still_  awake.

Maybe he's not  _totally_ awake, but he's  _awake_ , he's got his face tucked in by Billy's neck, again, and he’s ranting about something, but it sounds like  _nothing_ , it sounds like  _bullshit_ , it sounds like fucking  _baby talk_.

The only words that spill out of his lips and  _actually_  make any sense are just  _Nancy_  and  _married_  and  _alone_.

Billy keeps his focus on his magazine, like Steve isn't saying anything, like he's just waiting for Steve to pass out, like he thinks this is a normal night. 

_Nothing_  about this is normal.

Steve won't fall asleep.

He  _can't_  fall asleep.

"What's your go-to flirting move? A:  _being super nice_ , or B:  _playing hard to get_? Think mine is A."

Steve has no fucking idea.

He hasn't really flirted with anybody in  _forever_. 

"Hard to get."

" _Okay_ ," Billy hums. "Last one: You're more likely to crush on someone who is A:  _charming and popular_ , or B:  _tough on the outside, but super sweet once you get to know them_." 

_Jesus_. 

Wow.

"B?"

"Yeah, me too." Billy pauses to add everything up, then informs Steve, "You're Princess Jasmine."

"Uh. Cool? Who did _you_ get?"

"Snow White."

Steve's not, like, an  _expert_  on Disney movies, but.

That  _can't_  be right.

Still, he repeats, blearily, " _Cool_."

 

 

 

 

**-1**

Billy's gone by the time Steve wakes up.

He's  _gone_ , but the empty little red cartons of Horizon chocolate milk scattered all over Steve's place pretty clearly indicate that he stuck around for a while, last night. 

Steve's never  _seen_  Billy drink chocolate milk out of a straw, or anything, but he  _believes_  it happened. 

Billy  _is_  a semi-disgusting creep, but he's  _also_  someone who sometimes wears acid-washed jeans with a Care Bears patch on them, and he _loves_ swimming in the adorably intense way that, like,  _Golden Retrievers_  love swimming, and when he smiles, he looks like he's  _actually made out of sunshine_ , so. 

_Sometimes_ , Steve thinks Billy just acts like an asshole so no one will notice that he's secretly three years old. 

 

 

 

 

He usually needs four pills on a bad day, but today, Steve's flirting with the idea of going for five, because he _should_ have more energy than he does, but he just feels like he's kicking around maintenance level.

The last time he decided to up his dosage, he had to find a new dealer. 

He doesn't think Billy's going to give him a hard time, but he didn't think _Eddie_ was going to,  _either_ , and he really doesn't want to be accused of being a  _caustic drug addict who's circling the drain_ , again, like. 

Maybe that's who Steve  _is_ , but he doesn't need anyone actually  _saying_ it to his _face_. 

He didn't even know what caustic  _meant_ , so he had to _look it up_ , and the whole thing just  _sucked_.

Whatever. 

Maybe he'll be okay.

Maybe Steve's just getting the flu, or something. 

His phone rings a few times, but getting up to answer it seems like a  _lot_  of work, and, honestly, Steve doesn't really see the  _point_?

He doesn't have anywhere to be, so no one's calling to ask where he is, and he doesn't owe anyone money in any real way where anyone is ever going to be able to  _prove_  it, so no one's calling to harass him about  _that_ , so.

Yeah,  _no_.

He doesn't have to talk to anybody.

 

 

 

 

He goes for five.

 

 

 

 

**0**

Steve doesn't wake up until noon.

His phone battery is at twenty-three percent, and that isn't going to last for more than, like,  _ten minutes_ , so Steve plugs it in to charge for a while, drinks the last of the chocolate milk, watches most of a  _Veronica Mars_  rerun.

He can't believe  _Veronica Mars_  is still even on TV?

He feels like he's in an alternate reality.

 

 

 

 

He has messages from Nancy, from Jonathan, from  _Hopper_ , who never talks to  _anyone_ , so  _that_  puts the fear of motherfucking  _God_  into Steve, until he actually  _listens_  to the message and calms down, because it's just Hopper's foster kid, asking Steve if he can buy her some chocolate chip cookies. 

The one store in Hawkins that used to stock Carol's Cookies apparently stopped last month, and she's been putting extra chocolate chips on top of her chocolate-chip waffles, but it's  _just_  not the same. 

Hopper's kid is _nice_ , and everything, but Steve thinks he's had exactly  _six_  conversations with her, _ever_ , so it's  _weird_  that she called  _him_.

She must be  _real_ desperate for a fix.

Steve can understand that.

What he  _didn't_  understand, up until right the fuck  _now_ , was why Mom wanted him to water the plants, why Nancy was harassing him, why Dustin said they were going to see each other soon.

But Nancy is getting married this weekend, and Steve RSVP'd  _months_  ago, so.

He has to go back to Hawkins.

Nancy is probably stressed as hell, so he opens up their text thread to tell her he doesn't need a plus one, because that _has_ to be what she's been freaking out about, but. 

Nancy's last text is from late last night, and it just says, _ok all good ty!!!!_

Steve has no idea what  _that_  shit means, but he's still not really in the mood to talk to anyone, so it's not like he's going to fucking  _ask_  her.

He deletes all of his messages, leaves his phone where it is, goes to Whole Foods to get some cookies.

 

 

 

 

Steve doesn't end up leaving his apartment again until it's dark as hell outside, and Hawkins is about six hours away, depending on traffic.

_So_ , he remembered to bring a few changes of clothes, he remembered to bring enough cookies for all of the kids, he remembered to bring his phone, even if it  _is_  dead, again, and that means he's _kinda_ acting like a grown-up, but.

_Jesus_.

He isn't  _really_ , is he?

He carefully places the Whole Foods bag full of cookies in the trunk of his car, tosses in the less-important Whole Foods bag he filled with mostly-clean boxers and T-shirts and exactly seventeen unmatched socks.

None of that's really wedding-appropriate, but Steve figures he can just borrow a suit out of his dad's closet and put it back before he notices.

If  _that_  doesn't work out, like,  _worst case scenario_ , Steve tries to wear his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles T-shirt to his ex-girlfriend's wedding, and she makes him leave, and that seems like a win for everyone, _anyway_.

He's about to close the trunk when someone walks up behind him, like, "Slow your _roll_ , pretty boy; where's the fire?"

And, like.

Okay, come  _on_.

There's  _definitely_  a hidden camera in his apartment.

"...uh. Hi?"

"We're going to a wedding, and you're dressed like  _that_?"

"Man, we're  _not_  going to a wedding.  _We're_  not going  _anywhere_."

" _Oh_ ," Billy nods, rolls his eyes, shrugs his shoulders. "Okay. Where are  _you_  going, baby?"

Steve bites his lip.

"A. I mean. To a  _wedding_ , I guess."

" _God_ , you're cute. I mean, you're dumb as a fucking  _brick_ , you know, but, like.  _Wow_. You're  _really_  out here making it work." Billy drops a beat-up Jansport into the trunk, slams it shut, looks expectantly at Steve. "You know it's, like,  _ten_ , right?"

"You're  _not_  coming with me."

Billy gives him an almost-sad smile. "It's  _so_  weird that you think that, 'cause I actually  _am_."

"Listen, I  _literally_  don't even know how you  _know about_ —"

"You fucking  _begged_  me to come with you, and  _that's_  how I know about it."

" _Why_  would I  _ever_  do that?!"

" _Embarrassment_ , I  _guess_."

Steve scowls. "Why would  _you_  wanna do it?"

"You promised to give me a blowjob every day that we're there." And that's  _terrifying_ , because Billy doesn't grin when he says it, like he's telling a joke, so. It  _could_  be true? Like, Steve  _is_  someone with a history of promising to give Billy head in exchange for favors, and, even if he wasn't, Billy is fucking  _hot_. Obviously, he would be hotter if he cut his hair and stopped, like,  _bathing_  in patchouli oil, but he's  _still_  hot, and he's  _always_  mildly flirting with Steve, so Steve is  _almost always_  mildly turned on when Billy's around, so. _Wow_. Now that he's  _thinking_  about it, he's sorta  _always_  ready to suck Billy's cock? So.  _Fuck_. "Also, you said something about a swimming pool, and, like, just to be upfront with you: I fucking  _love_  pools."

Steve sighs. 

That part is _definitely_ true. 

 

 

 

 

It's Steve's car. 

It's  _Steve's_  fucking car, but Billy argues that  _he_  should get to drive the first leg of the trip, because, _seriously, I have so many benzos in my system; I'm about to pass out for, like, three hours_. 

Steve doesn't get how that means Billy is at  _all_  capable of  _driving a car_ , but Billy  _insists_  on it, so.

Steve stares out the window, watches the city rush past them as Billy works them over to the highway, listens as Billy repeats, "You fucking  _begged_  me to come to this  _dumb_  wedding with you, so you could at least  _pretend_  you're happy I'm here," and then he tells him, "I had to talk to that bitch, _Nancy_ , on the phone? And, _hey_ , she seems, like. I don't know. Uh.  _Not_  your type, so. I don't know what the  _hell_  you were thinking," and then he adds, "Hope you're not a  _right or left_  side of the bed type of guy, 'cause  _I_  need to sleep  _right_  in the middle." 

Steve lets all of that sink in,  _really_  takes his time with it, before he tries, "...what the  _fuck_ , I.  _Why_  would I care how you gotta  _sleep_ , man?"

Billy's all slow and stoned and sleepy when he laughs, pulls the car to a stop in the  _middle of the fucking highway_ , like he  _wants_  to get them both killed, groans, "Okay, get out; I can't _walk_."

Jesus _fucking_ Christ.

Steve gets out of the car, walks around to the other side, watches Billy try to shift his heap of dumb uselessly jacked muscles over to the passenger seat. 

"Need a  _hand_ , or something?"

"You think you're cute, _don't_ you, baby?"

Billy looks a little murderous, but he  _probably_  won't murder Steve, because it seems like Billy still thinks they're _friends_ , or something.

As far as Steve knows, Billy eats, sleeps, and _breathes_ his job, but most of his customers are older guys like Ben, so.

Except for Steve, he doesn't seem like he interacts with a lot of people who are his own age.

It's sorta like the time Tommy moved to Hawkins, and Carol sighed dreamily,  _he's so cute_ , and Steve said,  _no, he's not; he's just new_ , but when Steve reported this to Carol's older sister on the drive home from school, she told them, in this very serious voice,  _no, that's, like. Cutest boy in your class, that's a real thing. You're stuck in this tiny room, but there's only, like, ten boys, and most of them used to put fingerpaints in your hair in preschool, or whatever, so, like. Once there's a new boy? He's the best one, and you wanna, like, marry him. Happens every time._

And, _yeah_ , Steve made friends with Tommy after that, but only because he  _had_  to, because alphabetical seating meant that they were stuck together _all day long_ , not because he was _cute_ , or anything, but.

Well.

If it's like _that_ , it  _does_  sorta explain why Billy's always so fucking  _weird_ , right?

When he's finally settled down in the passenger seat, Billy slurs out, "You drive  _so_ damn slow."

"I  _literally_  didn't even start driving."

" _Shit_ , really? Feels like it's been  _hours_." It's almost like Billy moves in slow motion when he reaches out to fuck with the radio, eventually settles on a station that's playing  _No Scrubs_ , yawns sleepily, "Oh,  _yo_. Told Nancy I'm your boyfriend. Better than  _dealer_ , so, like. Heads up on that."

And he's  _still_  not smiling, so.

Great. 

_That's_  a thing, now,  _too_.


	3. Chapter 3

**0 (continued)**

He's only been at Wendy's for, like,  _four minutes_ , when Billy stumbles in from the car, falls into the seat next to Steve, yawns into Steve's hair, " _Yo_ , what the  _fuck_ ; don't just  _leave_  me places."

"Sorry," Steve lies. "How you feeling, champ?"

"Stoned as  _hell_ , and I'm about to  _die_."

Maybe it's obvious that Steve can't get out of his booth to go get his order, because he's being boxed in by, like, a hundred and eighty pounds of  _stoned as hell_  muscle, like.

Maybe  _that's_  why the Wendy's girl brings his bag to the table instead of just calling out the number on his receipt. 

Steve mouths,  _thanks_ , and kinda hopes she'll fuck off before Billy wakes up enough to notice her, but Billy whistles, waits for the girl to turn around, then goes, " _Hey_ , you're so fucking  _pretty_."

"Uh... _thank_  you?" 

"Sure. Can I get a Frosty? And. What'd  _you_  get?" Billy rifles through Steve's bag, ends up taking a huge bite out of his burger, moans, " _Lord_ , okay, get me, like.  _Ten_  of these."

Steve corrects, "Two."

Billy scowls.

" _Seven_."

"In  _what_  world are you gonna eat  _seven_   _more cheeseburgers_?!"

"Uh, one's for  _you_ , but, in  _this_  world, I can eat seven burgers, 'cause I burn almost three thousand calories  _every fucking day_."

Steve doesn't care.

How is that even something that  _matters_? 

He's pretty sure calories are a fake thing.

He's  _also_  pretty sure that Billy's going to  _die_  if he eats that much food, but Steve's not in the mood to play the most boring character in that old  _White Castle_  movie, so. 

"Listen, he can have  _three_ , but that's it."

 

 

 

 

By the time his food is ready, Billy's asleep, anyway.

 

 

 

 

Billy's mostly passed out, but Steve manages to get him to wake up long enough to sit down on a bench out in the parking lot.

Two bacon cheeseburgers and only seven bites later, Billy shivers, turns to pillow his head against Steve's chest, whines, "Drugs are the fucking  _Devil_ , I, like.  _Gotta_  stop living like this. I'm gonna fuck up my whole  _life_." 

Steve can't fucking  _believe_  this shit.

He sighs, lifts the Frosty spoon up to Billy's mouth, watches Billy take exactly  _one_  tiny lick before he gives up and turns back to sigh over Steve's right collarbone. 

"You know you're my _real life drug dealer_ , though, like. You  _know_ that,  _right_?"

"Yeah, but, I'm, like.  _Okay_ , yo,  _I'm_ on the up and up, but. I mean. Shit, no  _offense_ , but you live in a fucking  _hovel_."

Steve lives in a shitty one-bedroom apartment, so.

That's obviously an insult.

_Obviously_ , but.

"What's a hovel?"

" _Love_  how fucking hot you are," Billy laughs. "Like.  _So_ stupid?  _So_  damn hot. How's that a  _thing_ , even?"

" _Okay_ , so. You got a  _death wish_ , or  _what_ , man?"

Steve hasn't even  _tried_  to physically hurt anyone since high school, when Jonathan Byers beat him up pretty bad outside of the movie theater, but he thinks he  _might_  hit Billy, right now, like.

He feels capable of that.

"What're you even gonna  _do_ , like.  _Drop_ me? You already  _abandoned_  me; my expectations are fucking  _low_ —"

Steve points out, "I'm the  _only_  thing keeping you from falling and dying outside a Wendy's, in, like, the  _middle of nowhere_."

It takes him a minute, but Billy fights through his drug-induced haze for long enough to process that, and then he just keeps  _smiling_ at Steve, like, " _Yeah_ , but I  _trust_  you, baby."

Just for that, Steve's pretty sure he's going to  _have_  to drop Billy a few times on the way back to the car.

Just to keep him on his toes.

Not his  _real_  toes,  _obviously_ , because.

Yeah.

The guy  _can't_  stand up.

Since Billy clearly isn't going to do it, Steve finishes the rest of the ice cream, and then wonders, "How do you even  _know_  how many calories you burn?"

"What, you don't have a Fitbit?" When Steve shakes his head, Billy tells him, "You  _gotta_  invest, baby. Fucking  _lifesavers_."   

 

 

 

 

Normally, Steve could not give a  _fuck_  about how many calories he burns. 

He's a little curious tonight, though, because he's doing a  _lot_  of unexpected physical activity.  

As it turns out, feeding Billy was a _huge_ mistake, because it just woke him up enough to complain about being in the car until Steve pulled into a B &B parking lot, said,  _okay, I'm gonna go see if they got vacancies, but Hawkins is only, like, two hours out, so if they're booked up, we're just going there, okay? You gotta say okay, man. I gotta hear it._

And Billy  _wouldn't_  say okay, he just said,  _don't leave me alone_ , and he looked  _real_  fucked up, so Steve took pity on him and wrestled him out of the car because Billy  _still_  couldn't really walk, and then Billy went,  _I need my backpack_ , because he's an asshole.

And Steve fucking  _tried_  to just be like,  _this isn't a fucking adventure, Dora; we're just gonna cross the parking lot_ , but it didn't work, because Billy was  _already_  super heavy, but he suddenly got  _way_  heavier, like he was  _trying_  to be heavy so that Steve couldn't move, so Steve had to say,  _fuck, oh my God, fine_.

And opening up his car,  _and_  keeping Billy upright,  _and_  leaning into the trunk to get Billy's bag, all at the same time, ended up being  _really_  tiring, so. 

Steve's exhausted as  _shit_  by the time they actually get into the hotel, when he pushes Billy onto this loveseat that's inexplicably by the front door, when he hits a hand against the bell and calls out, " _Hey_ , is anybody around?!"

Like, because maybe nobody  _is_? 

He's pretty sure B&Bs usually lock up, this late at night, right? 

Maybe this place is full of, like,  _serial killers_ , or  _vampires_ , or  _other things_  that think they don't have to be scared of predators. 

_Whatever_. 

The point is, Steve's not feeling the vibe, not even when some girl comes out of one of the back rooms, wearing a tired smile and a sundress and a nametag that says  _EVELYN_.

"Hi! Is this your first time staying with—"

Steve interrupts, "I will  _literally_  pay, like, a small fucking fortune for  _any_  room you have."

He  _won't_  do that, because he's broke as hell, but  _she_  doesn't know that, and Steve doesn't need to be  _enticed_  into staying at this place, because Billy looks like he's almost out again, and Steve  _has_  to get him to bed before he  _really_  falls asleep, because Steve  _can't_  carry him.

Like, he could  _try_ , but Steve's  _completely_  sure it would kill him.

"Uh. We actually only have  _one_  room open, and." Evelyn glances at Billy, then looks back at Steve, then looks  _right_  back at Billy, like she thinks he's  _that_  fucking hot, and,  _shit_ , she's  _right_ , but.  _Wow_. "Um. It's got one bed, and—"

"Is it a  _big_  bed?"

"Yes? It's. _Yeah_ , I mean, it's a—"

"No,  _yeah_ , I don't  _care_ ," Steve snaps. "Just  _gimme_  it. How much is it?"

Maybe he's just getting tired. 

_Maybe_ , but Billy's  _still_  huge, huge like King Kong is huge, huge like the fucking  _Hulk_  is huge, so Steve should be more aware of where he is, but he's  _not_ , really?

He's not, because he  _thought_  Billy was still by the door, so he's almost shocked when he has to deal with Billy pushing up by his side, leaning heavily against the front desk, muttering, "Don't be fucking  _rude_  to  _Evelyn_."

Steve  _wants_  to roll his eyes about a million times, but he manages to hold himself back.

"I'm  _not_  being rude."

Billy makes a face, then turns that same mostly-sleepy mostly-dumb mostly-useless face on Evelyn, who has a little bit of peach-pink lipstick on her teeth when she's like, "Um, he  _wasn't_. It's fine. It's.  _I_. Ah.  _Hi_."

And,  _hey_ , it's nice to know that Steve's not the only person who doesn't know how to handle Billy?

Like, seriously, it's  _so_  fucking nice to know that he's not alone on that. 

It's  _nice_.

But. 

_Okay_ , Steve's never been a jealous guy, or anything, and he  _still_  isn't, because he barely even  _likes_  Billy, and Billy's not  _really_  his boyfriend, but Steve sorta has to  _pretend_  he is, soon, and, as far as  _Evelyn_  knows, Billy  _is_  Steve's fucking boyfriend.

They're about to share a bed all night, and she  _knows_  it, so. 

Yeah,  _no_ , she shouldn't be  _hitting on Steve's boyfriend_. 

Or, fine,  _whatever_. 

She shouldn't be mildly flustered by Steve's fake boyfriend being vaguely attractive in her general direction? 

It's  _not_  cool of her.

Steve shifts his weight, leans into Billy, groans, "I wanna go to  _bed_."

There's a quick second where Billy shifts around, too, like he's trying to make sure he doesn't accidentally drop Steve onto the floor of some random B&B, like that's  _super_  high up on his list of current priorities, but then he replies, "Yeah, I  _know_. Relax. Give me a minute."

Billy talks to Evelyn for a while, gets her to knock about a hundred bucks off of their bill,  _still_  leaning back against the desk,  _still_  holding Steve close,  _still_  acting like they're about to go upstairs and fuck like they're  _in love_ , or something.

The whole thing is weird.

It is  _fucking_  weird, and, these days, Steve is a  _huge_  supporter of saving money, but he physically  _can't_  drag Billy up the stairs, and the restorative powers of Sprite and cheeseburgers and soft serve ice cream  _can't_ keep Billy going for much longer, so. 

" _Baby_ , come  _on_ ," Steve's like, and Billy shifts around one more time, and.

And his cock is hard in his sweats, pressed up on Steve's thigh, when Billy hums, "I'd better get him to bed."

 

 

 

 

Billy gets them both up the stairs, and he  _even_  carries his own backpack, which Steve was  _not_  really expecting him to do, and then he spots another one of those tiny couches in the hallway, a few doors down from their room, and he just  _crashes_  onto it, like the single most obnoxious motherfucker in the  _world_. 

If Steve hadn't just made a pretty big deal about how he was going to take Billy upstairs so they could fuck, he would probably just  _leave_  him on the fucking couch, but he  _can't_ , because he  _did_  just make a big deal out of that. 

He gets their room open, walks back out into the hall, stares down at Billy.

"You're the  _worst_  person I know."

Billy doesn't answer him.

Steve sighs, tries to brace himself for the worst one-to-one and a half minutes of his life, carefully starts arranging Billy over his back.

 

 

 

 

"This is  _wrong_. Put me in the  _middle_." 

Steve rests his hands on his hips, blows some hair out of his face, thinks about just  _killing_  Billy and moving on. 

Murder can't be, like,  _that_  hard, right? 

Especially murdering some random drug dealer in a hotel room, because, according to the news, that shit happens  _all the time_.

Not that Steve  _watches_  the news, but he hears  _other_  people talking about the news, all the time, so. 

It's  _gotta_  be a real thing. 

He leaves Billy on the edge of the bed, goes into the bathroom, lays his pills out on the counter. 

He's already running low.

Billy probably brought some with him, though, because he  _knows_  Steve, a little, so. 

Yeah. 

_Yeah_ , it'll be fine. 

He didn't pack like a fucking  _grown-up_ , though.

He brought socks and underwear and shirts and the jeans and sneakers he's wearing right now, but Steve didn't really bring anything else, so he doesn't have any syringes, and they're in  _rural Indiana_ , so it's not like he can just go out and pick some up. 

Steve bites his lip, bites three of his nails, then bites down on his pills, like he fucking  _knew_  he would. 

He spreads his hands out over the counter, cracked plastic posing as porcelain, stares at himself in the mirror while he waits for the hit.

His hair is getting long.

Like, it's not even  _close_  to how long  _Billy's_  hair is, but Steve should get a haircut. 

Maybe he'll get one in Hawkins.

Steve shuts off the light in the bathroom, goes back out to where Billy's  _still_ not exactly in the middle of the bed, asks, "You okay?"

"Didn't I fucking  _say_  not to leave me places?"

"Why are you  _such_  a baby?" Steve sneers, " _Don't leave me alone_ , and, like,  _put me in the exact spot I need to nap_ —"

"Shut the  _fuck_ —"

" _Buy me chocolate ice cream I'm not even gonna eat_ —"

"I bought that Frosty  _all_  by my fucking  _self_. God, I  _can't even_. Fuck, just. Remind me to kill you when I wake up."

Steve rolls his eyes, shoves Billy into the middle of the bed, grabs the TV remote and bounces down onto the mattress.

For some reason, there's an old episode of  _Charmed_  playing on TNT, even though it's late as hell, but Steve rolls with it, because he's seen some  _weird_  shit on hotel TVs. 

One time when he was a kid, Steve's parents took him to Las Vegas with them, left him in the hotel for most of the trip, and the TV was set to, like, an  _entirely different time zone_?

Like, Steve's got this distinct memory of  _Sesame Street_  coming on at, like,  _seven PM_ , so.

_Sure_.

He can watch  _Charmed_  in the middle of the night, like that's  _normal_.

He doesn't  _care_.

He's about to crash out, anyway.

After a few minutes, Billy, who fucking  _had_  to sleep in the  _middle_  of the bed, turns over, curls in close to Steve as he mumbles, "That bitch could sit on my fucking  _face_."

Steve sorta thought Billy was, like,  _mega gay_ , so  _that's_  pretty crazy, but. 

"I used to like the one who replaced the girl from, uh. God. Like, the  _Heathers_  girl?"

"Rose whatever? I don't know. She's  _okay_." Billy lifts his head off of his pillow to put it back down on Steve's thigh when he's like, "I like dark hair."

 

 

 

 

**1**

Billy is a  _liar_.

He's a  _fucking_ liar, because maybe he can't  _fall asleep_  unless he's in the middle of the bed, fine,  _maybe_ , but he  _can_  sleep, and Steve knows it, because he wakes up at four, and at six, and then he wakes up for real around seven-thirty, and Billy is all over him,  _every fucking time_.

He's  _all over_   _Steve_ , and, like,  _even_  after carrying him around last night, Steve wasn't aware that Billy was  _this_  fucking heavy?

For a split second, he thinks that Billy only feels so heavy because he's actually fucking  _dead_ , or something, but that's  _dumb_ , because Billy is breathing, calm and slow and just  _dead_  to the fucking  _world_. 

Steve needs a piss, and he needs at  _least_  two pills, and he should probably eat something, because he's learned that just because his body isn't  _telling_  him it's hungry doesn't mean it's  _not_  fucking hungry, and he didn't eat much last night. 

Steve  _can't_  stay here forever, but Billy's on top of him, and he's  _heavy_ , and his dick is hard,  _again_ , because of fucking  _course_  it is.

Like, why  _not_? 

Steve  _totally_  needed to deal with Billy's morning wood.

Fuck.

Steve  _increasingly_ feels like his life is just a series of realcruel jokes.

He murmurs, " _Billy_ ," and gets  _nothing_ , so.

Steve raises his voice a little bit when he tries again, "Billy.  _Billy_. Hey. Get up, man."

Billy doesn't get up. 

Steve is going to  _murder_  him. 

_Well_ , okay, he's  _not_ , but only because he suspects that Billy is somebody with  _pretty_  strong survival instincts?

The urge is there, though.

Steve licks his lips, swallows a few times, makes sure his voice comes out low and sweet and  _wanting_  when he calls, "Baby?  _Baby_ , wake up."

He's  _definitely_  still asleep, but Billy lets out a sleepy groan and tips his head to the side when Steve kisses his throat, and,  _yeah_ , it's a little bit gross to kiss somebody when they're asleep, but it's not like he's kissing Billy on the  _mouth_.

_That_  would be a bad vibe.

Like, to be  _fair_ , Steve grew up thinking that was  _totally_  fine, because that was, like, the whole plot of  _Sleeping Beauty_?

But it's bad.

Steve  _knows_  that, but it's not like he's  _hard_ , because using fucks Steve up  _way_  too bad for that.

The high is worth it, so.

_So_ , it's whatever, but it means he gets basically nothing out of it when he pushes his hips up. 

He gets  _nothing_  out of it, but Billy's not like Steve, so  _he's_  almost fucking  _instantly_  grinding down, tensing up, slurring, "Fuck,  _baby_ , that's. Perfect,  _so_   _good_."

"Yeah, man, I  _bet_."

Steve makes sure to look like he's  _really_ bored when Billy's eyes slowly open and widen and blink, when Billy's getting up, when Billy's spitting, "Jesus  _fucking Christ_ ," as he slams the bathroom door. 

Maybe Steve could have pretended to be asleep, just to let Billy hang onto some of his  _dignity_ , or something, but, like. 

Come on.

Steve was  _never_  going to do that.

 

 

 

 

He pisses in the parking lot, chews up a pill on his walk back into the building, grabs an onion bagel and a tiny carton of cranberry juice from the breakfast spread. 

He doesn't really want to go back into their room, so it's fucking  _perfect_  that he doesn't have to, that Billy comes down the stairs carrying his Jansport and Steve's hoodie, that Billy doesn't even  _say anything_  to Steve when he sits down across from him.

He seems pretty focused on doing his hair, where it's all gathered together over one of his shoulders, and the braid he's slowly building is sorta loose and messy-looking, but it  _works_ for Billy, because  _everything_ kinda works for Billy?

It's  _annoying_.

Like, no one  _needs_ to be  _that_ hot,  _all the time_ , right?

Steve figures he'll wait for Billy to finish up with his hair before he tries talking to him, but as soon as Billy ties off the braid, he abandons his backpack on the table and wanders off, comes back a minute later with five apple crumble muffins and two bottles of Tropicana. 

He's done with most of the muffins and  _all_  of the juice before Billy glances up at Steve, like, " _Morning_." 

"I've been  _right_  here this  _whole_  time." 

"Yeah, but you don't really  _count_  until I'm, like.  _Ready_  to deal with you." 

" _Sure_. Okay." Steve rolls his eyes. "What's that even  _called_?"

Billy narrows his eyes and looks sorta murderous again, so.

Steve reaches over to run his fingertips over one of the dark blond curls that's  _already_  escaping the braid, raises his eyebrows, listens to Billy explain, " _Fishtail_ braid. I'm trying it out. Do you like it?" 

Honestly?

Steve isn't sure yet.

"You look like Thor."

" _Shit_ , really?" Billy grins. "That's the fucking  _dream_." 

"Oh. I sorta thought you were, like. Going for  _Jesus_ , this whole time." 

"Jesus didn't even  _have_ long hair. That's fake. That's white people rewriting history." 

"Man, I don't think you, like, get to say  _white people_  like that when  _you're_  white." 

"Who says I'm white?" 

"Um..."

Is he  _kidding_? 

Is this like the pronouns thing, again? 

Steve knows that, like,  _America is a melting pot_ , or whatever, but,  _come on_. 

The guy is  _blond_ , and he has  _blue_   _eyes_ , and he's named  _Billy_. 

That's  _all_  pretty white,  _right_?

"You  _don't_  know all my shit." Billy reaches across the table so that he can drain the rest of Steve's cranberry juice, like, "Let's hit the road."

Steve steals the last piece of apple crumble off of Billy's plate, shrugs, stands up from the table. 

_Yeah_ , he doesn't want to go back to Hawkins, but it's not like he wants to hang out here all fucking day,  _either_. 

 

 

 

 

They're heading across the parking lot to Steve's car when Billy suddenly says, "You  _know_ , you actually promised me  _two_  blowjobs a day,  _so_..."

So,  _bullshit_.

"Yeah,  _no_ , uh. I'm not  _actually_  remembering that, like, at  _all_."

"And that's fine, 'cause I'm  _generous_ , so we're just going to keep calling it one a day."

Steve rolls his eyes.

In the semi-sober light of morning, the blowjob thing seems  _way_  less real, and  _way_  more like Billy's just being an asshole for no reason.

" _Whatever_."

"Swear to God, I'm  _just_  happy to be here, like. This is a fucking  _stellar_  time for a road trip for me, 'cause I have some family shit going on, so, you know. Being stuck in some, like,  _Twin Peaks_ style Internet-less utopia—"

"Um, I think only, like, a  _hundred_  people lived in Twin Peaks? There's, like. A  _thousand_  people in Hawkins, man, we. We  _have_  Internet, it's not—"

" _Jesus_ , baby," and Billy is leaning back in the passenger seat, pulling some mirrored aviators out of the front pocket of his backpack, when he's like, "No one  _cares_."

 

 

 

 

Maybe no one cares, or maybe  _Billy_  really fucking does.

_Maybe_ , because when Steve stops for gas, Billy leans against the car for a minute, fucks around on his phone, slowly breaks into this terrifyingly delighted smile.

Steve doesn't really want to know what  _that's_  about, and Billy gets up and disappears into the store,  _anyway_ , like he's not planning on talking about it.

But, when he comes back, Billy's carrying a yellow bottle of Nesquik, a Sprite Zero, a bag of pretzels, and after he's dropped all of that into the backseat, Billy rests his arms on top of the BMW, makes eye contact with Steve, informs him, "Five thousand, one hundred and  _twenty_  people lived in Twin Peaks." 

What the  _fuck_?

How can he  _possibly_  know that?

"That's... _not_  true."

"It  _sure_ is." Billy's grin shouldn't be able to get any wider, but it fucking  _does_ , when he challenges, " _Fuck_  with me."


	4. Chapter 4

**1 (continued)**

Steve wakes up to the sound of that guy from that old 80s band crooning, _don't do it, when you want to go to it. Relax! Don't do it! When you wanna—_

And the radio cuts out when the engine does, when Billy parks, glances at Steve, lowers his sunglasses as he announces, "Hawkins, Indiana, USA. Population? _Less_ than 5120."

Billy's glasses aren't the aviators he was wearing earlier.

They're _Steve's_ sunglasses.

They're Steve's old Ray-Bans, and Steve doesn't even know why Billy's fucking _wearing_ them, because they got caught in traffic for about four hours after they left the B &B, and then they had to stop a few times because Billy said he needed _road trip photos to show Max_ , and Steve thought that was dumb as hell, because he doesn't _know_ Max, but he's pretty sure Max is just like _everybody else in the world_ , which means that he's someone who doesn't want to see anyone else's vacation photos, _ever_.

The point is, it's not _totally_ dark outside, but it's getting there, so there's _no_ reason for Billy to be wearing sunglasses, and Steve _knows_ that there's no reason for a _lot_ of the weird shit that Billy does, but.

"Why would you even  _do_ that? Like.  _Like_ , just for the  _drama_?"

"You've been out for  _hours_ , pretty boy. I actually drove around in circles for, like,  _twenty_   _minutes_ , waiting for a good song to come on,  _for the fucking drama_ , so—"

" _Jesus_ ," Steve spits. He looks out the window, stares up at the _WELCOME TO HAWKINS_ sign, feels ready to puke. "Fuck,  _whatever_ , just get out of my fucking car."

 

 

 

 

Steve's parents aren't at home, but he wasn't expecting them to be. 

Dad's job is based in Chicago, and Mom's is based in New York, so, for a long time, they  _only_  came back to Hawkins because of  _Steve_ , but Steve hasn't bothered coming back here since the second Christmas after graduation.

He hasn't been here in years, but he still knows where everything is, because _he's_ the one who kept this fucking household running for, like, a _decade_ , so.

He fills a glass with water from the kitchen tap, empties it out over a few of the dead plants scattered in the entryway, before he tries, "You want, like. A _tour_?" When Billy doesn't answer him, Steve glances over his shoulder, raises his eyebrows, presses, " _Billy_?"

Billy's standing in the middle of the kitchen, with his hands buried deep in the pockets of his sweats, wearing this weird look on his face. 

He licks his lips, and Billy licks his lips a _lot_ , so it's not strange, but. 

It sorta _is_ , because Billy doesn't look horny, or whatever, the way he normally does, when he yawns, "Doesn't _anybody_ fucking  _live_  here?"

"Yeah, I guess." Steve shrugs. "Sometimes." 

Billy mouths,  _oh_ , and. 

And then he doesn't say anything else. 

 

 

 

 

Nobody lives in this house, so there isn't any food in the kitchen. 

Steve thinks about ordering pizza, but he doesn't really _want_ to do that?

He doesn't want anyone finding out that _Steve Harrington_ is back in town yet. 

Except for Dustin, no one here knows he went to rehab, no one knows what a  _mess_ he is, no one knows how _fucked up_ he is, and he wants to keep it that way. 

He _really_  wants to keep it that way, but Billy doesn't say anything for an hour, not until he goes out to the car, comes back with his backpack, eats a handful of pretzels before he hands the bag over to Steve. There are exactly _two_ pretzels left in the bag, and Steve doesn't really _like_ pretzels, but he eats them, anyway, while Billy crosses his arms over the kitchen counter, licks his lips again, whines, "I'm _hungry_."

"Sorry."

"What's the Hawkins set-up, like. Is it too much to hope for, like, Grubhub? Doordash, or. Shit. _Postmates_?"

" _Way_ too much to hope for."

Billy sighs, " _God_."

Steve _gets_ that he's being a bad host, but he's _still_ pretty sure that he didn't _actually_ invite Billy here, in the first place, and Billy's not his _friend_ , so Steve doesn't have any real reason to be nice to him?

He has _no reason_ to be nice, so it's _crazy_ that Steve says, "We can get food in a minute, okay?"

In a perfect world, Nancy's rehearsal dinner would be tonight, and Steve would take Billy to that, and he could eat the Wheelers out of house and home, and it would be  _great_.

But the rehearsal dinner isn't until Friday, or Thursday, or _something_ like that. 

Steve doesn't know, but it's okay, because it would be meaningless information, anyway. 

Steve doesn't even know what day _this_ is.

But it doesn't matter. 

Sure, it isn't _perfect_ , but, at least, in this world, at some point, _someone_ is bound to drop by the house to tell Steve what to do. 

 

 

 

 

In _this_ world, Steve drives Billy down to the general store, watches him pick out a carton of chocolate soy milk, a canister of protein powder that's on clearance, a _massive_ box of Reese's Puffs.

"You're a _toddler_ ," Steve tells Billy. "Like, seriously, man, did you get dropped on your head when you were a little kid, or, like. Like, you _gotta_  let me know, man. _What_ , you had some kinda big traumatic event happen to you?"

Billy rolls his eyes.

"Words  _hurt_  people; I don't know if you  _knew_  that, but it's  _true_."

So.

Obviously, _that's_  enough wild shit for one day, but then shit gets even more intense, because Ms Byers is working the register, and, at first, it's great, because she doesn't notice Steve, because she's _super_ busy eyeing Billy like he's the weirdest thing she's ever seen, and that _could_ be because of Billy's whole Jesus-meets-Thor routine, but Steve thinks it's probably just because there's never anybody new in Hawkins?

She hands Billy his change, gets halfway through telling him to have a good night, suddenly stops and blinks and gasps, "Steve _Harrington_?! Oh my God,  _sweetie_ , come  _here_!"

Steve doesn't, like,  _hate_  hugs.

He  _loves_  hugs, honestly, but he hates hugs from people who don't even  _know_  him, and,  _yeah_ , he babysat for the Byers a few times, but that doesn't really  _mean_  anything. 

He still hugs her back.

He hasn't had a good hug in _forever_. 

 

 

 

 

In the parking lot, Billy drawls out, "Had no idea you were _Mr Popularity_." 

"Shut _up_ ; I'm not."

"Oh, yeah? You could've fooled me." 

"Right. _Okay_. So." Steve sighs, " _Why_ you always giving me a hard time?"

Billy gives Steve an innocent smile. "I _don't_ do that."

"You. Are you _serious_ , 'cause, like. _Jesus_ , you're _still_ doing it!"

Out of nowhere, Nancy's old Volvo brakes right in front of them, and Steve feels like he's going to fucking _die_  if he has to talk to Nancy right now, he _does_ , but.

The window rolls down on the passenger side, and Hopper's kid smiles up at him.

" _Hi_ , Steve!"

"Hey, Jane. How's it going?"

"Good!" She leans in to whisper with the driver, then looks back at Steve, like, "You're not coming to the party? Mike says you and his sister went out for a long time. Is it, like. Gonna be too  _painful_ if you go?"

Next to him, Billy suddenly swears, " _Holy_  shit."

He doesn't know what _that's_ about, but he doesn't know a _lot_ of things. 

He doesn't know what's up with Billy, and he doesn't know why Hopper's still letting Jane do whatever the hell she wants all the time, and he doesn't know why anyone thought  _Mike Wheeler_ , who always used to fall all over his _own limbs_ , should get to drive a  _car_ , but. 

The Volvo reverses, and turns, and then Mike rolls down the drivers side window as he calls out, "It's _Thursday_! Don't you ever turn on your _fucking_ phone?!"

"Uh. When, like, _normally_ , or what?"

Steve deserves a fucking _Academy Award_ , or some shit, for not being like, _when, like, when I'm not super focused on avoiding your sister, or what?_

"Jesus, fuck,  _look_ , we can give you a ride over there, if you _want_?"

Mike sounds really annoyed about having to make the offer, at all, and that's pretty much enough to make Steve want to take him up on it, except.

He's a little lost.

"A ride  _where_?"

"To the  _rehearsal dinner_." Mike repeats, incredulously, "Jesus,  _fuck_!"

 

 

 

 

Steve hasn't been part of a wedding since the summer before eighth grade, when Tommy's older brother got married.

At the time, Carol wasn't letting Tommy get to second base, and, except for Steve,  _all_ the guys on the baseball team made fun of Tommy after they found out, so Tommy asked Steve to be his date to the wedding out of spite.

The only reason Steve _didn't_ make fun of Tommy was because he was still Carol's best friend, _not_ Tommy's, so he knew that Carol was saving herself for Zac Efron, and, _honestly_ , he thought it was pretty gross that she was even letting Tommy _kiss_ her?

But he went to the wedding with Tommy, and they got to spend the week in Chicago, and they got high for the first time, and they totally _slept through_ the rehearsal dinner, and that means Steve's not too sure what to expect  _now_.

He parks his car behind Mike's, rolls his eyes at his reflection, watches Billy check his hair in the rearview mirror.

This morning's fishtail braid is holding up pretty well, so Steve doesn't see what the _problem_ is, but whatever. 

After a minute, Billy leans back in his seat, looks at Steve thoughtfully, informs him, "It's cool if you want to leave."

"What, like. Later?"

"Yeah, or, like, _right_ now."

"Oh. Okay. Yeah, just.  _Mike_ will make fun of me, you know? He's got this _entourage_ that follow him everywhere, and, like. They kinda _run_ Hawkins, it's pretty bad, actually, um. They got _way_ too much power around here, so  _everybody_ would find out that I left, but. _Thanks_ , man."

And Billy's _not_ his boyfriend, but _Nancy_ thinks so, and Steve's about to see her for the first time in _forever_ , and he doesn't want her to find out how fucking _pathetic_ he is, and. 

And maybe it's not really about that, and.

And maybe _nothing_ was wrong with the braid, maybe Billy was just being aware of how fucking _annoyingly_ hot he is, again, because it looks like a few more curls have been purposefully pulled out of the braid so they can frame Billy's face, instead, and he looks _good_ , like. 

Steve still doesn't fucking _like_ him, but he looks _so_ fucking good. 

Honestly, if Billy _was_ Steve's boyfriend, they would _never_ be able to go out, like this, because Steve _wouldn't_ be able to keep his hands off of him.

He braces a hand next to Billy's head, presses a breath of a kiss to his lips, stares at his almost-closed eyes and midnight-murder-mystery-dark lashes.

Steve's not even being dramatic, here.

Those eyelashes are  _ridiculous_.

They're like Maybelline commercial-level ridiculous.

He wonders if Billy already knows that.

 

 

 

 

"Oh, thank God!" Mrs Wheeler wraps Steve in a quick one-armed hug before she steps back. "Nancy was _sure_ you wouldn't show up."

"Here I am, though."

"Yes, and,  _again_ , thank God for that! And  _this_  must be...?"

"Uh, yeah, my boyfriend, Billy. Say  _hi_ , Billy."

Billy cuts a mutinous glare at Steve, which is why it's fucking  _terrifying_  that he manages to give Mrs Wheeler a mostly-genuine grin a couple seconds later, when he holds out his hand, like, " _Hi_ , Billy."

Mrs Wheeler laughs like that's  _not_  seven-year-old level humor, and she blushes when Billy kisses her hand, and Steve wants to _die_ , like.

_Shit_ , he just wants to die _so much_. 

When he steps his left Nike down over Billy's toes, Billy moves away from Mrs Wheeler, gets in close to Steve, pulls out his phone like he's bored. 

Steve can't believe it's _that_ _easy_ to get Billy to stop inappropriately flirting with girls, but.

It's clearly  _that_ easy. 

Mrs Wheeler opens her mouth, closes it, opens it again and doesn't actually get to say anything else, because somebody storms up to them, snarling, " _Finally_ , God,  _fuck_!" 

" _Language_!"

" _Mom_." Nancy scowls. "I'm an _adult_." 

 

 

 

 

Nancy used to be _real_ cute, but in that girl-next-door kinda way where she always sorta looked like a _really_ tiny librarian. 

She doesn't look like that anymore. 

Her hair is this dark-dirty-ash blonde, and she's in this sorta scandalously short dress, but she's _not_ wearing tights, even though she wore them with every skirt or dress she _ever_ wore in high school.

Tonight, the only familiar thing about Nancy is the little gold ballerina-slipper necklace she's wearing. 

Steve drains a glass of champagne, grabs two more before he pushes away from the bar, and it looks like Mrs Wheeler must have disappeared right after Steve did, but Nancy and Billy are exactly where he left them, so.

He hands Billy a drink, and Billy looks confused, and almost _suspicious_ , like maybe he thinks Steve's trying to _poison_ him, or something? 

Steve doesn't really care.

It's probably best if Billy _doesn't_ drink it, because then _Steve_ will get to drink it, so he doesn't pause to reassure Billy that it's totally safe, before he smiles at Nancy, like, " _So_ , um. Like. _Yeah_ , so, this is Billy."

"Yeah, I know; we just met. Billy says you guys met at work?"

She doesn't say, _that sounds fake, but okay_ , but Steve can still tell that she's thinking it.

" _My_ work," Billy puts in. "I do some shit for Steve's ex's firm."

"Steve's _ex_? Right. _Okay_." She nods, eyes Billy dismissively, turns to look at Steve again. "You know, you're, like, _insanely_ hard to get a hold of?"

"Um. Sorry. I'm here _now_ , so—"

"Your mom wouldn't tell me where you were, and your dad doesn't know—"

"Nance—"

"Dustin _blocked_ me on Snap after I asked him, like, _two_ _questions_ about you—"

" _Okay_ , I'm sorry about—"

"And who the hell _isn't_ on LinkedIn?! Like, I _know_ you have a résumé, because I _fucking_ made it for you!"

" _Nancy_ —"

"If you're in trouble, I want to know!"

"Jesus, _listen_ to—"

"Just 'cause things ended badly doesn't mean I can't _help_ you, Steve—"

"Oh my  _fucking_  God! _Nancy_ , this is a _real_ bad time for this shit,  _okay_?!"

Steve can feel a _lot_ of people staring at him, but he doesn't care. 

He finishes his second drink, reaches out for Billy's, waits for Nancy to walk away. 

But Steve's been away from Hawkins for a long time, so he's fucking up.

He's making bullshit mistakes. 

Nancy's never been someone who walks away from _anything_.

That's why she dated him for so long.

" _Steve_ ," and there's a hand on his chest, a thumb painted with chipping lilac nail polish rubbing over his collarbone, Nancy right in front of him giving him this lost-careful-determined face. "You mean a _lot_ to me. That's, like, _why_ I invited you, I'm. I'm not trying to _upset_ you, okay?"  
  
It's not okay.

"Okay."

"If Tommy—"

He doesn't fucking _push_ Nancy, because Steve's not _like_ that, so he _wouldn't_ push a girl.

Nancy's still somehow _so_ unsteady in her heels that Billy reaches out to keep her from falling down after Steve pulls away from her.

Maybe he should feel bad, but he doesn't, because he didn't _do_ anything, and he wanders away to get some more champagne when Billy comes up behind him, wondering, "So, _that's_ your ex, huh?" When Steve nods, Billy shakes his head, shrugs, intercepts Steve's next flute of champagne, like, " _Weird_. Doesn't seem like your type."

Hasn't he  _already_  said that?

Why the fuck is Billy  _always_  saying shit like that?

He doesn't even  _know_  Steve.

"Okay, _asshole_." Steve sighs, "What's my type, then?"

"Not  _that_."

And maybe Steve's  _technically_  stoned, but he's not feeling it.

He  _should_  be starting to feel that champagne, at least, and he's  _not_ , so. 

Something's wrong with him.

_Fuck_.

He needs to go get high.

"Nancy's short and, like,  _blonde_ , now, and. I _guess_ that's my type, like. I don't know."

"I'm not  _short_ ," Billy snaps.

" _Yeah_ , man, uh.  _Listen_." Steve lies, "No one's talking about  _you_."

It doesn't seem like Billy believes that, but it _does_ seem like everyone is starting to take their seats, so. 

Thank God for _that_.

 

 

 

 

As it turns out, rehearsal dinners are all about boring speeches, and  _nothing_ else, or.

Like, _okay_ , the speeches _just_ started, so maybe something fun is supposed to happen _later_ , but Steve's _already_ bored as hell, so he doesn't know how much of this he can take.

Maybe Billy's bored, too, because he's suddenly pressing his mouth to Steve's ear, breathing, "Wait,  _Barb_  sounds like a  _girl's_  name."

"Uh,  _yeah_ , man?" Steve points out in a hush, "It  _is_  a girl's name. Like. Like  _Barbara_."

"Your ex is getting married to a fucking  _girl_?!"

"Okay, are you, like,  _not_  gay? Just 'cause I always  _thought_  you were gay, and, like. Then you said  _Alyssa Milano_  was _hot_ —"

"She  _is_!"

"And now you're getting, like,  _real_  homophobic, so—"

"I'm not being homophobic, you  _fucking_  moron, I just." Billy looks violently murderous again when he hisses, " _Jesus_ , I didn't fucking  _pack_  for a  _lesbian wedding_."

Steve blinks, tries to understand that,  _totally_  fails. 

"Um. What, like. You gotta bring  _different_   _clothes_ for a  _gay_  wedding?"

" _Obviously_."

Steve nods, tries to understand  _that_ , and.

He fails.

"I got an idea, but, like." He glances around, sees Dustin sat next to Mike, and. _Yeah_ , Dustin  _really_  fucking knows Steve, because he basically  _said_  this was gonna happen an entire  _week_  ago. "Um. It's _kinda_ rude? But, like, here's the _thing_ , though, is, like. These people don't even  _know_  you, so—"

"You're saying we should bounce?"

Steve shoots finger guns at Billy, beams, confirms, "That's  _exactly_  what we should do."

 

 

 

 

Skipping out on the rehearsal dinner is a bad idea.

It means Steve might have to field more pissed off calls from Nancy, even though he thought those days were behind him. 

It means Steve might be uninvited from the wedding. 

It means Steve might have to kill Billy, _or_ himself, or _both_ of them, because Billy's hungry, and he _won't_ shut up about it, and Steve _knows_ he's not sober, but, like.

He's _still_ too sober to put up with _this_ shit, again. 

He buys Billy curly fries at Arby's, stops at the grocery store, gets six Freschetta brick oven pizzas and six blocks of teriyaki tofu and a pound of cauliflower. 

Billy says he knows how to make  _rice_ out of  _cauliflower_ , so that's what  _that's_  about, and he says he needs protein and that those tiny blocks of tofu each have, like, a hundred and sixty calories, _and_ sixteen grams of protein in them, and he says all of that like it  _means_  something? 

Like, Steve has  _no_  idea what the fuck it means, but it's cute that _Billy_ thinks he's making sense. 

The rice thing sounds _really_ fake, though.

Billy's probably just wasted. 

 

 

  

 

Steve doesn't think he has the patience to watch Billy mess up the whole kitchen just because he doesn't love himself enough to eat  _real_   _rice_ , so when they get back to the house, he shoves two pizzas into the oven at the same time, and that's it, until he catches himself by the door, turns around, goes, "...Billy?"

Billy takes a savage bite out of a raw block of tofu, and Steve doesn't know if that's gross, because he doesn't know _shit_ about tofu, so he doesn't know if it needs to be  _cooked_ , or anything, but.

Come  _on_.

It looks  _real_  fucking gross.

"Yeah, what?"

"Um. I'm gonna go into the living room?" 

"Okay?" Billy finally looks up from his cauliflower, uses his knife to poke absently at the tofu, then glances back at Steve. "So, _what_? Do I  _care_?"

"No, just. _Whatever_. I'm not, like.  _Abandoning_   _you_ , I'm. Just gonna watch TV."

There's a half-embarrassed half-annoyed look on Billy's face, and _that's_ not great, because Steve wasn't trying to _embarrass_ Billy, and it's in his best interests that he doesn't _annoy_ Billy, either?

Steve's never really been that good at looking out for his best interests, though, so.

He leaves, and he's halfway through an episode of  _Blue Mountain State_  when Billy comes out of the kitchen, scowling, going, "I  _hate_  you." 

When he sits down next to Steve, he's too close,  _as always_ , and. 

His breath smells like pizza. 

Steve didn't even hear the oven timer go off.

Okay.

Maybe he's a  _little_  more faded than he thought. 

 

 

 

 

Billy is too sober.

He's _usually_ sober, but Steve doesn't _usually_ spend this much time with him, so it's starting to freak him out?

He put a hand on Steve's thigh about twenty minutes ago, and that is _not_ a lot of time, but it also  _absolutely_ is, and, yeah, he's touched Steve more intimately than this before, _obviously_ , but it's _different_ when Steve's fucked up, so.

He keeps his voice casual when he asks, "Hey, you want a drink? _I_ kinda want a drink."

It's not like Steve's going to do anything _weird_ , okay? 

He's _not_.

But Billy makes him feel bad, like he _is_ planning something weird, when he smiles like he really fucking _trusts_ Steve, like, "Yeah, sure," and.

It feels like _such_ a bad vibe. 

Like, it's not even _close_ to bad enough to stop Steve from getting up to go pour Billy a drink, but it _is_ a bad vibe, and Billy makes it worse when, after a glass and a half of liquor mixed with liquor mixed with _more_ fucking liquor, he wants to know, "Yo, you didn't _drug_ me with something, _did_ you? It'd be _messed up_ if you did. _Like_ , I'd kick your _ass_."

Back in ninth grade, Tommy's big brother, _not_ the one who got married, but the _other_ one, got kicked out of law school and had to move back in with his parents for a while, so he used to hook them up with booze, sometimes, as long as they didn't have Carol over, because he said he didn't trust her, but he _also_ used to say that mixers were for girls, so he got _real_ judgmental if Steve and Tommy tried to pour juice into their vodka.

After he moved out again, Tommy finally told Steve that he got kicked out of school because of _sexual misconduct_ , so.

He was probably the _worst_ person who could have influenced Steve's lifelong drinking patterns, but whatever. 

It's not _Steve's_ fault that Kahlua mixes well with Bailey's _and_ with what's left of the UV Cake vodka he found hidden in his old bedroom. 

Vodka never expires, right?

 

 

 

 

He's _such_ a creep that it's _sometimes_ hard to tell, but Billy is the same exact brand of trash that Steve is.

He gets wasted as hell, throws up pizza and booze, and then he just  _keeps_  drinking.

Like, he's _definitely_ on the way to getting alcohol poisoning and dying, but Billy is a _hero_.

He's a hero, but he's also super difficult to get upstairs, mainly because he keeps saying _wild_ shit with _no_ provocation, like, "Let you do whatever the  _hell_  you wanted to me."

"Oh, yeah?  _Whatever_  I want?"

" _Yeah_ , pretty boy." Billy laughs, groans, looks up at Steve from under a mess of dark blond-brown curls when he slurs, "Pretty _baby_ , you. You're so _fucking_ pretty. Can't say _no_ to you."

Steve decides to ignore all that shit, because that's usually the best way to deal with Billy, anyway.

He shoves at Billy's side, forces him into the middle of the bed, climbs in on the left side as he sighs, "Go to _sleep_ , man."

Billy doesn't go to sleep. 

He doesn't even shut up and _pretend_ to sleep, like a semi-decent person. 

No,  _instead_ , Billy tells him, "I'd do  _anything_ , I. I'd  _give_  you anything, baby—"

Steve just wants to shut Billy up, so he sighs, "Would you let me fuck you?"

Billy laughs. 

It's a dark cruel slow  _slip_  of a laugh, and maybe it shouldn't hurt, but it fucking  _does_. 

"How would that _work_ , even? Like, in this scenario, I mean,  _what_? Like, I pump you full of Cialis first?"

Steve can feel a sudden blush working its way across his face, but he's not sure _why_ , because, like.

He's not embarrassed. 

He's not even pissed off. 

Like, _yeah_ , Steve can't get it up, because he's always way too stoned.

Of _course_ Billy knows that. 

But what _Steve_ knows is, Billy gets hard every time he fucking _sees_ Steve, and that is _pathetic_ , because Steve is _never_ fucking Billy, because he _doesn't_ like him, and Billy probably knows that by now, but he's still  _so_ into Steve, he likes Steve _so fucking much_ , so _Steve_ isn't the one who has _anything_ to feel embarrassed about. 

He could say all of that, or even just  _some_ of that, and it would make him feel a _lot_ better. 

Steve says, "Don't choke on your puke."

 

 

 

 

It feels like a dream when the bed dips.

It probably shouldn't, but it _still_ feels like a dream when Steve hears Billy start throwing up.

It happens _way_ too fast for Billy to have made it to the toilet.

Hopefully, he got to the sink, at least?

Steve doesn't know, but.

He listens as Billy hunts around for a bottle of mouthwash, rinses, spits, and.

It feels like a dream when Billy comes back to bed, taps two of his fingertips up by Steve's cheek, then whispers, " _Hey_ , I. If you got _clean_ , I would let you. Like. _Anything_."

Steve doesn't generally think about having sex with Billy.

He's _never_ wanted to have sex with Billy.

Billy's annoying, he's clingy, he has a _million_ crazy issues he doesn't want to talk about. 

But it's sweet that he thinks Steve would sober up for him, _isn't_ it?

Like, it's _so_  sweet that Steve starts thinking about _actually_ doing it.

 

 

 

 

**2**

Steve wakes up at four, and  _everything_ hurts. 

He gets out of bed, gets stoned in the bathroom, stumbles his way down the staircase to water Mom's plants again.

By the time he gets back upstairs, the high is hitting him, he's _tired_ , and all he wants to do is crash for about a _thousand_ years, so.

He gets back into bed.

 

 

 

 

He wakes up right before five, when someone's getting into bed with him, and he's  _so_  tired, so that's almost scary?

But it's just Billy, he knows it's just Billy, because it _has_ to be Billy, because, whoever it is, they're all cigarette smoke and fading patchouli oil and something that Steve can't think of the word for, but he doesn't _need_ to know the word, because.

It's just Billy, right?

Steve _knows_ Billy.

" _Billy_?" He mumbles, "Where you been?"

"Downstairs," Billy whispers, pulls Steve's blanket tight around his shoulders, like Steve's _six_ , so he's tucking him into bed, or something. It's _very_ dumb. It's, like, _super_ cute, but it is _also_ very dumb. "Go back to sleep."

And, okay, Steve  _is_ going back to sleep, but not because Billy fucking  _told_  him to, like.

_Just_ because he was already gonna do it, anyway?

He's real tired, and maybe a little bit happy, and really really  _really_  warm, now that Billy's back.

Billy's  _back_ , because he wasn't here before, and he  _wasn't_  downstairs, because  _Steve_  was downstairs, but it probably doesn't matter.

Billy's here, even though he could have left, and that means a _lot_ , because this house is _real_ fucked up. 

It's the only place in Hawkins where people leave, and then they never ever  _ever_ come back.

_Fuck_.

Maybe all of Billy's crazy shit is contagious, because Steve usually fucking _loves_ being alone, but, right now, he feels like he _can't_ be alone, so.

"Billy. _Billy_ , come here," and it takes Billy a _million years_ , but he eventually props himself up on one elbow, leans down over Steve, raises his eyebrows. So. _Okay_. "You like it here?"

"What?"

"House. My parents' house, you. You _like_ it?"

"Yeah, sure."

"And Hawkins?"

"It's...okay? It's not Twin Peaks, but, you know. It's _fine_."

"And you still like _me_? You _like_ me, right?"

The lights are turned down low, so Steve can't see Billy's face very well, and he's _so_ fucking high, anyway, but.

There's a hint of a smile on Billy's face when he's like, " _Yeah_ , baby, I. I  _like_  you."

And he's  _so_  close, just a  _breath_  away, so Steve puts all the energy he's got into pushing up for a kiss.

It's not  _that_  much energy, though, so he falls back onto the pillows pretty fast.

Billy follows him down, but he doesn't kiss Steve again.

Well, okay, he  _does_ , but he doesn't kiss Steve's mouth.

He kisses down Steve's jaw, and his chin, and the base of his throat.

Down, down,  _down_ , until.

_Finally_ , Steve crashes.


	5. Chapter 5

**2 (continued)**  

Someone is knocking on the front door. 

Billy's heavy again, where he's sprawled out over Steve, holding him down in bed, so Steve sighs, " _Billy_. Billy. _Christ_ , man, come  _on_."

He's not expecting it to _work_ , because, like, it didn't work the _last_ time Steve tried it, so why would it work _now_ , right? 

But, somehow, like maybe he's not that deep of a sleeper, after all, Billy rolls over, sleepily groans, " _Morning_ ," and curls up under a blanket, so. 

 _That's_ weird, but Steve doesn't have the time to think about what it means.

He makes his way downstairs, opens the front door, yawns, "Hey?"

"Steven Harrington?"

"Uh, _yeah_?"

"I'm gonna need you to come with me. Chief wants to talk about your whereabouts last night." 

"What, like. Hop's too good to make house calls, now?"

The cop glares at Steve. 

"He's the _Chief of Police_." 

Steve probably shouldn't roll his eyes right in front of the cop's face, but he fucking _does_ , because, like?

This _isn't even a real thing_.

This is just Hopper being a dickhead for no reason.

And, like, yeah, Steve _gets_ that that's just part of Hopper's _personality_ , but.

Come on.

Steve's a dickhead, _too_ , but it's not like _he's_ sending cops to anyone's front door at ten in the morning.

He offers, "I could drop by, like. Two-ish? I _guess_?"

"You're coming down to the station _right now_ , Harrington."

"I don't think you're allowed to make him go anywhere,  _right now_ , unless you're arresting him," and Billy's fingers lace together low on Steve's stomach, his lips press a light little kiss to Steve's jaw, his chin settles down on Steve's shoulder. They probably look _super_ fucking domestic, and yesterday, that would have been mildly amusing, and the day before _that_ , it would have been gross, but it's sorta okay, now? It's _more_ than okay, actually. It feels good. _Billy_ feels good. "And I don't know _why_ you'd arrest him, because between you and me, officer? Steve's a  _real_ good boy." 

Before Ben, before rehab, before he moved, Steve got in a _lot_ of trouble in Hawkins.

Not for drugs, thank _God_ , but he still started _so much_ shit.

Petty vandalism, some pretty nasty fights, all _sorts_ of crazy shit Tommy wanted to do, and.

And then he threw that party, and the cops came, and the Hawkins PD don't see a lot of shit like _that_ , so.

Even if this cop wasn't there personally, he _has_ to know all about it. 

" _Just between you and me_ , your boyfriend's currently a person of interest in a highly—" 

"Guess who fucking cares?  _Nobody_ , so get a warrant, or go  _fuck_ yourself." The door shuts right before Billy shoves Steve up against it face-first, and maybe that should hurt, or feel humiliating, or something, but. It's _still_ okay. _He's_ still okay, listening to Billy breathe into his ear, "What the hell did you  _do_ , pretty boy?"

" _What_? Nothing!"

"Well, we both goddamn  _know_  you weren't in bed all night."

Okay, _yeah_ , for a second, Steve _wasn't_ in bed, because he was getting high, but it's not like _that's_  something he can say to the police, but that's not _fair_ , because, well.

When Steve got up, Billy wasn't in bed, _either_ , was he? 

He _definitely_ wasn't there when Steve came back to bed, and the cop didn't say what happened, so Steve doesn't know what Hopper _wants_ , and. 

And maybe it doesn't matter, because Billy  _probably_  didn't do anything crazy, but.

Just like everyone else in Hawkins, the cops think that Billy is Steve's boyfriend, so they're going to assume that Billy and Steve were together all night long.

No matter _what_ happened, it looks like Billy is his alibi, and that means that  _Steve_  is _Billy's_ alibi, and that fucking  _sucks_.

 

 

 

 

For someone who is trying to pretend that he believes that Steve might have just committed a semi-serious crime, Billy manages to get back to sleep _real_ quick.

Steve doesn't think _he's_ going to be able to pull off a similar vibe, so. 

He microwaves some tofu, pops two pills, heads out to the backyard.

One time, when they were kids, Carol brought a fucking _enormous_ pink flamingo pool lounger over to Steve's house, and she never took it back home with her, and Steve was on the swim team for years, so he's a _real_ strong swimmer, but he sets himself up on the flamingo, anyway, because he doesn't really want his hair getting wet.

Like, it's _also_ because he's not sober, and he doesn't want to accidentally drown himself, or something?

But, _also_ , he's starting to suspect that his parents have stopped paying the pool guy, because the pool looks like it hasn't been cleaned in _forever_.

 

 

 

 

After a while, Steve looks up, and around, and Billy's standing by the side of the pool, eating rice out of a coffee cup, with his hair half-up in a bun and half-down over his shoulders, and he's wearing his fucking _ridiculous_ jeans with the Care Bears on them, and, _hey_ , maybe none of that _matters_ , but it also _does_ matter, because Steve has never seen _anyone_  as aesthetically irritating as Billy in his _entire life_ , so Billy shouldn't be able to judge _anybody_ for _anything_ , but Steve can _tell_  that Billy is judging _him_.

Steve doesn't know what exactly Billy's judging him _for_ , just because there's _so much_ to work with?

Like, he's floating on a flamingo over a small sea of water and leaves and trash, so.

 _Yeah_.

There's a lot of material.

The best defense is a good offense, so Steve snaps, "You're literally eating _vegetables_ , in a mug, with a _spoon_ , and you're wearing _sandals_ , so, like. _Whatever_ you wanna say?  _Don't_."

" _Jesus Christ_ wore sandals."

" _Jesus wore sandals_ ," Steve mocks. "Fuck, just shut _up_ about Jesus, already, okay?! You gotta pick a side; either you _like_ Jesus, or you _don't_ —"

"Hey,  _no_ , what the _fuck_?! I never said I _didn't like_ —"

" _I never said_ —"

" _Stop_ ," Billy's like, scowling. "Fuck. You're _kind of_ an asshole."

Steve blinks.

"So, um. _Here's_ a question: why are you saying that like you _didn't_ already know about it?"

"I _knew_ , but you are a _lot_ worse in your natural habitat. Shit,  _is_ this your natural habitat? Like, where the hell does something like you _come_ from, even? In my head, I'm picturing a really Old Testament type of—"

Just for emphasis, Steve splashes at Billy's ankles with water from the pool when he's like, "We're _outside_ of the house I came from, _right now_."

"Yeah, but I don't know if I _believe_ that anymore. This place is _too_ fucking weird."

"My _house_?!"

"No. _No_ , uh. Hawkins." After an oddly heavy pause, Billy adds, "Something's _real_ fucked up about this _whole_ goddamn town. You, uh. You don't get a bad vibe, when you're here?"

"I'm _never_ here, so. Not really, man. I might be too used to it, though, like. I kinda used to _run_ this town, you know? People called me _King Steve_."

"Why would anyone _ever_ do that?"

That's a pretty good question.

The thing is, back in high school, it was _impressive_ that Steve could drink all night long and still act like a human being, in the morning, but these days, the whole King Steve thing is just an unnecessary reminder that Steve was fucking _destined_ to be a fuck-up, so he  _shouldn't_ tell Billy the truth.

Like, he doesn't _have_ to tell him the truth, right?

"I was the Keg King of Hawkins," Steve admits, for no fucking reason. " _No one_ could do a keg stand longer than me."

"That is. _Wow_. Look, that is just.  _So_  goddamn sad."

" _Fuck_ you; it was _cool_. I _still_  got the town record, actually; Dustin updates me every time somebody tries to beat it."

"Who's Dustin, again?"

Shit.

When did he say Dustin was his brother? 

_Months_ ago, when he was buying Billy some Airheads, right?

Billy's memory isn't _that_ good, is it? 

No one's memory is that good.

He _won't_ remember it, so.

"Um. _Okay_ , like. You know how you gotta  _see_ things, to believe them, sometimes?"

Billy loudly scrapes his spoon around in his mug, sets it on the ground when he sits down by the edge of the pool, eyes Steve in impossibly critical silence until he's like, "Don't take this the wrong _way_ , but you make it _real_ hard to be friends with you."

Steve points out, slowly, "You're _not_ my friend."

"That's _right_ , baby." And Billy's all teeth, grinning at Steve, cooing, "I'm your  _boyfriend_ , remember?"

 

 

 

 

The drive to Starcourt Mall is pretty smooth.

Parking and riding up the escalators and crossing over to GameStop is pretty smooth.

Walking into the store and hearing Dustin yell his name and falling down when Dustin launches himself at Steve like he's _not_ eighteen years old is _not_ smooth, at _all_.

Billy takes all this in, then demands, sounding _actually_ outraged about it, " _Wait_ , so, you're not friends with _me_ , but you're friends with this _hobbit_?!"

"In the _first_ place, my height is a _no-fly zone_! I have a  _medical condition_ , and it's. Fuck. _God_. You know _what_? I don't care about this, 'cause I don't even know who the hell you _are_ , but, like? Why would a _hobbit_  wanna sell _video games_ , you know? You maybe wanna try and reevaluate your insults."

_Oh my God_ , Billy mouths, before he says, "Yeah, I'll get _right_ to work on that." 

Steve smirks, but then he has to rush to put on a serious face when Dustin looks back at him.

"Who even  _is_ this son of a bitch?! I _get_ to refuse service to people, you know?! That is, like, the _sole_ perk of my _whole entire job_ , it's my actual, like, _raison d'être_ —"

"What the fuck are you _talking_ about?" Steve reminds Dustin, "You _only_ wanted to work here 'cause of the employee discount—"

" _Please_ do not throw _facts_ at me, Steve Harrington. I fucking  _hate_ when you do that, and you _know_ it!"

_Fine_.

That _is_ true. 

"Sorry, man. Hey, you got, like, a _locker_ , or something? Just 'cause I got something in the car for you. Like, _mostly_ for Hopper's kid, but. It's also for you, I guess."

"Uh, _no_ , but! You could drive me to D&D? Jane's gonna be there! And I'm off in ten minutes, and that's basically, like, _no_ time, _at all_!"

"You people still  _play_ that game?"

" _What_ have we said about you _bullying_ me?!"

"Um...that I should go ahead and  _do_ it, right? Like, I don't _know_ , but I _think_ that's what we—"

"That's the fucking  _opposite_ of what we said!"

"I'm getting _old_ , Dusty. Sometimes it's hard to _remember_ —"

" _Don't_ call me that! Oh my God! Did you _honestly_ drive for twenty minutes  _just_  so you could come embarrass me at work?!"

"Uh, _no_ ," Steve laughs, like that's crazy, even though that is almost _exactly_ what happened. "Billy needed to buy some clothes for tomorrow."

"Wait, _Billy_?!  _His_ name's Billy? _You're_ Billy?"

Billy glances up from his phone, raises his eyebrows at Steve, then responds, " _Yeah_?"

"Steve," Dustin's like, after several beats of silence. "May I please speak with you? In private?"

 

 

 

 

Private isn't really private? 

It's just the corner of GameStop where no one is currently standing except for them.

But after Billy disappeared with some bullshit lie about how he needed to find some socks, Dustin apparently didn't need anymore _privacy_ to feel comfortable enough to hiss, " _Billy_ is your _drugdealer._ "

Oh, _shit_. 

"What?! He isn't!"

"He _totally_ is! You came to get me from the bus stop, like, _sorry I'm late; I was with my friend_ , and I was like, _oh, really? What's your friend's name, then, if they really exist?_ And you were all,  _he does exist, his name's Billy_ , but, like, you were _so_ high—"

"I _wasn't_ high," lies Steve, who has just discovered the _perfect_ way to get out of this. "I wasn't _high;_ I was feeling _good_ , 'cause I was just _having sex with Billy_ , and I lost track of _time_ , and I didn't wanna come out and say, _hey, I was with a dude_ , 'cause I didn't know how you were gonna _take_  that kinda _news_ —"

"You didn't _know_ how I. _You_. You think I would _judge_ you?! For _that_?! Steve! Will and Mike were, like,  _totally_ a thing that one time Jane went to see her sister for the summer, and—"

"That's _different_ —"

"How?!"

"Um. Well, like. What'd they _do_ , just. Hold hands at the arcade? That's _sorta_ small-time compared to—"

"Do you _really_ want intimate details about Mike and Will, or do you wanna just _trust_ that I know _gross_ things that I _know_ you don't wanna know?!"

Steve takes a minute to consider that.

"Yeah, um. No, I. I _don't_ wanna know that shit, _ever_ ; you're right. I'm sorry, man. I should've trusted you."

" _Yeah_ , you _should_ have!"

"And, uh. We'll drop you off for D&D, I guess."

Dustin tilts his chin up on a scowl when he declares, "It's the fucking  _least_ you can do."

 

 

 

 

Billy's smoking a cigarette and looking tense as hell when Steve finds him hanging around outside of the old Macy's. 

"I told Dustin we were gonna drive him to see his friends."

Billy nods.

Steve adds, "Nice shoes."

They _are_ nice shoes. 

They're pitch-black combat boots that Steve's never seen before, so Billy must have _just_ bought them? 

He has no idea where Billy's sandals are, but, like. 

It doesn't really matter, because the boots are a _huge_ improvement, even though Billy is wearing them with his dumb jeans and a dark grey Pepsi Cola T-shirt that might actually be Steve's.

Billy's voice comes out sounding like a thick tired rasp of a thing when he asks, "Am I hitting more like Thor, or Jesus?"

He's hitting nowhere near Jesus _or_ Thor.

"Um, Thor? I _guess_ , like. Yeah, Thor." 

"Okay." Billy narrows his eyes. "Like, I _know_ you're lying, but. _Okay_."

Steve could _never_ date Billy.

He's _too_ exhausting.

He crosses his arms over his chest, lets his meanest grin take over his face, sneers, "Would _Thor_ wear _Care Bears_ clothes?"

Like maybe he's someone who was born without the ability to feel embarrassed about his life choices, or something, Billy answers, " _Yes_."

 

 

 

 

Billy's tense in the car, and he's tense when Dustin runs into the Byers' place with his paper bag full of cookies, and he's _still_ tense when they're heading back to the house, so.

"Listen, man, are you _okay_?"

Billy shrugs. 

Steve tries again, "You _pissed_ at me, or something?"

"I'm not giving you the _silent treatment_ ; I'm just fucking _tired_."

"Okay. Um, _hey_ , if you're down, I wanna get ice cream?"

Billy shrugs, but he's quiet when Steve pulls into the Kroger parking lot, and he's quiet when Steve takes off his seatbelt, and.

Right when Steve is about to ask if Billy wants to stay in the car by himself, Billy finally mutters, "Are we gonna go talk to that cop?"

"What? Oh, no way; I don't fucking  _talk to cops_ , like. _That's_ not me."

He's sorta expecting to see Billy start fucking with his hair, or something, but.

Billy is just _staring_ at Steve, all intense and dark and weird.

_So_.

Steve's like, "Ice cream?" 

 

 

 

 

Billy stops at the head of the freezer aisle, leans his arms on the front rail of their shopping cart, sighing, "Are you getting _out_ , or what?"

Steve doesn't really _want_ to get out of the back of the cart, so.

He's probably not gonna do it.

"I want ice cream."

"You _already_ said that." Billy sighs again, but then he leaves the cart where it is when he starts to walk down the aisle, shouting, "What _brand_?!"

"It doesn't matter!"

"What _flavor_?!"

"Who fucking _cares_?!"

He's pretty far away, but Billy still manages to give Steve this _I hate you and I hope you die_  type of look before he obediently opens up one of the freezers.

God.

Okay, _fuck_ what Steve said earlier, because Billy is the _ideal_ boyfriend.

Seriously, it's _such_ a shame that Billy's not Steve's real boyfriend.

It's a _shame_ , so. 

When Billy gets back, Steve sits up, grabs the front of Billy's shirt, tugs him in for a kiss, and Billy lets him do it, _even though_ no one's watching, almost like it's _not_ a fake boyfriend thing, so it's.

It's almost like it's _real_. 

"What the _fuck_." Steve mumbles, "You taste like _Christmas_. How did you _do_ that?"

Just like that, Billy is rolling his eyes, walking around to the other side of the shopping cart, pulling something out of his pocket to toss at Steve.

"You should _moisturize_ , pretty boy. Your mouth is like the _fucking_ Sahara."

And, like. 

Okay, it's _great_ that Billy is confident enough in his masculinity to admit to wearing Sugar Cookie flavored Chapstick, but Steve is just _never_ going to have that kinda confidence.

"What's a Sahara? Like. Is that a _movie_ , or what?"

Billy leans against the front of the shopping cart again, rests his chin on one of his hands, smiles blankly at Steve as he asks, "You _are_ joking, right? I mean, I'm _really_ tired, I don't. That _was_ a joke?"

It wasn't a joke, but, once again, Steve's pretty sure he's sensing _actual_ distress in Billy's voice, so. 

"Obviously? _Relax_ , babe."

  

 

 

 

Billy gets creepy sometimes, but maybe Steve accidentally calling Billy _babe_ seemed sorta creepy, too?

Like, maybe _that's_ the reason that Billy can't relax.

He's not super tense again, but he  _is_  way too quiet, and they're paused at a red light, _anyway_ , so.

" _So_ , um. Which one of those assholes is your favorite?"

Billy looks up at Steve blearily, follows Steve's gaze down to the patch on his jeans, shakes his head when he's like, "It's not _like_ that."

" _Why_ do you have them on your jeans if—"

"Max stuck them on all my clothes to fuck with me, a few years back. Like. _Yeah_ , when I was, like, sixteen, so."

Steve's questions on this topic range from _them? What's them? Were there multiple Care Bears patches? How many were there? Where did they come from?_  to more important things, like, _who the hell is this guy, Max, anyway? Why do you keep talking about him?_

Steve holds all of his questions back.

" _Wow_ , man. That's intense."

"I know."

"So, um. Max is your...?"

Because Steve has _been_ to Billy's apartment, and it was _obvious_ that no one lived there except for Billy, so he doesn't have a roommate, and he doesn't have a boyfriend, either, because if he _did_ , Billy probably would have _told_ his boyfriend that he was going on a trip with some random drug addict, and the boyfriend would have said that was a bad vibe, so, like.

 _Not_ a boyfriend, _not_ a roommate, but still some guy who is gonna want to see Billy's vacation pictures?

What does that leave?

 _Nothing_ , right?

So.

Who the hell is Max?

And, like he's reading Steve's mind, Billy explains, " _Maxine_ is my _sister_."

Oh.

 _Wow_.

Steve did _not_ see that coming.

Like, he didn't see that coming at _all_.

"Oh. Cool. Um. So, like. You _deserved_ it, right?"

"Hey, you're _victim-blaming me_ , and I _don't_ appreciate it." 

Steve rolls his eyes, rubs his thumb over the edge of one of the dumb little teddy bears, presses, "But you _got_ a favorite, right? If it's been _that_ fucking long, like. You _have_ a favorite."

Billy sighs, holds Steve's hand in his for about two seconds, then moves it over to rest on top of the rainbow-pink bear.

"That one." 

Steve holds back from saying, _wow, how fucking gay_ , but only because he's super confident that Billy already _knows_ how fucking gay it is.

"You still got the _same_ clothes you had when you were _sixteen_ years old?"

"I was almost seventeen."

"So _what_?!"

Like he somehow thinks it's a _real_ answer, Billy says, "I worked out a lot."

"Okay?"

There's obviously a story, here, but.

Billy's all quiet, again. 

This is probably the most Steve is gonna get from him.

"But then I dropped a lot of weight, 'cause we were living in this place where. It was. I mean, don't get me _wrong_ , it was _fine_ ," and in this uncharacteristically quick messy slur, Billy rushes out, " _Max_ was fine, and if she _wasn't_ okay, I _would've_ found somewhere else for us to go, but she was _fine_ , and money was tight, and kids just need so much _shit_ , you know, like. Clothes and food and motherfucking  _backpacks_ , and. It was fine, but it didn't _help_ , and. I just didn't want people _looking_ at me."

Steve wants to know more about that, because  _I didn't want people looking at me_ is a wild vibe for someone like Billy, who is fucking _constantly_ being looked at?

Like.

 _Normally_ , people who don't want to be looked at do _not_ walk around looking like Billy does. 

They usually sorta look like _Steve_ does.

Maybe he should point that out, but.

Steve repeats, "Okay."

  

 

 

 

When they get home, Billy decides to fuck around with that cauliflower again, like either he _forgot_ that there's more pizza in the freezer, or he is just  _truly_ delusional about his willpower, so.

Steve thinks it's pretty safe to go upstairs, to count out what's left of his stash, to get _so_ stoned that he passes out for the rest of the night.

He _thinks_ that, but he's barely slipped his last three pills back into his pocket when the bathroom door opens and Billy's standing there, wondering, "Are you getting _high_ in here?"

"Yeah." Steve lies, "In a minute."

"Can I watch?"

 _No_.

Like, it's _so_ fucked up that Billy likes doing that.

Doesn't he _know_ that?

At least, for once, Steve knows how to get Billy to back off.

"If you take some, too, you can watch me."

"No _fucking_ way," Billy says, instantly.

"Then no."

But if Billy doesn't want to leave, if he _really_ wants to stick around, there's _nothing_ Steve can do about it.

He's going to be stoned off his ass in a minute or two, and then he won't be able to do _anything_ , and.

"Who's Tommy?"

"Uh. _What_?"

"Before you lost your shit yesterday, Nancy was talking about Tommy, so. Who's that?"

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"I didn't ask if you _wanted_ to talk about it." 

Steve's not going to _do_ it, or anything, but he _really_ wants to punch Billy in the face.

"I don't _have_ to tell—"

"I told you about _my_ shit, so—"

"I didn't fucking _ask_ you to!"

"Yes, you fucking  _did_ ," Billy reminds him, and.

Okay, _fine_ , Steve asked about the Care Bears, but only because, like, _every single person_ who has _ever_ seen Billy's dumbass Care Bears jeans probably wanted to ask him about the Care Bears?

That doesn't mean Steve was asking for all the details about Billy's fucked up _Oliver & Company_ life story.

Wait.

Does that even make sense?

Like, _yeah_ , that movie was about a kitten, but if it was a movie about a _person_ , it would make sense, right?

Because, like, _then_ it would be a movie about some street-smart homeless kids, so.

Maybe Steve is already high, or.

Maybe he's mixing up two movies in his head?

 _Whatever_.

He needs to go to bed.

"Fine, _listen_ , um. Tommy is. _Okay_ , he. He's my friend? My _best_ friend. We, like. Grew up together, or whatever."

"Yeah? So, where _is_ he? Does he still live around here?"

"No."

"Where—"

"He's fucking  _dead_ , okay?!"

And this is usually where people say that they're sorry. 

They don't _mean_ it, but they don't _have_ to, because they didn't _personally_ kill anybody, but they still _say_ it.

"Who killed him?" Okay, but that's _weird_ , right? People don't normally jump straight to _murder_ , but Billy did, and he's apparently _not_ gonna drop it, because now he's pushing, "My money's on you. _Maybe_ Nancy, but, like. It's 70/30."

Steve has been here before.

Like, he was _right_ here, a couple hours ago.

He shouldn't tell Billy the truth.

He _can't_ tell Billy the truth.

He says, "Yeah, uh. _Me_."

**Author's Note:**

> not to be annoying, but please do comment or something, if youre feeling the vibe? validation is really All i live for.
> 
> title from _money_ by the 1975.
> 
>  [im on tumblr right here!!!](http://jennlfercheck.tumblr.com/)


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